Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sn.

a small red car pulled up a tall brown bricked building that looked like a skyscraper to the small boy. a smile stemmed on his face as his teeth formed buds matched with red petals of blush on his cheekbones. the boy didn’t really know why him and his parents had to move away from the big city he was used to. but he didn’t care, the big city was too mean and dark for the sunlit caring boy. 

a group of older women sat at the steps of the complex cheering as the car pulled up. for how old they were, Sunoo was shocked at the speed they ran when they saw his mother, “Sooyoung!! you are back sweetheart!” “Sooyoung! you’ve grown so tall!” 

sunoo clung to his mothers skirt, hiding behind her. nothing was more scary than the big mean city for small sunoo, but that didn’t stop the poor boy from being overwhelmed. his father groveled at the trunk of their car, slamming their suitcases packed with all their stuff onto the graveled road. sunoo almost wanted to go and help his father, which was a blue moon for sunoo to ever try to do something with his father rather than his Mother, in clasping his tiny hand from the fabric of his Mother’s skirt he turned to be stopped by “Oh my Sooyoung who is this little cute thing?” 

sunoo stopped in his tracks, his Mother crouching down to him. her kind chocolate eyes pooled staring into his, entrancing him with comfort, she patted his head before saying “this is sunoo, why don’t you introduce yourself sweetheart?” she rose her eyebrows nodding her head at him. he took a deep breath, his tiny chest puffed up like a bird before continuing “i’m sunoo, i’m 6 and a half but ill be 7 in june.” 

his practiced speech from kindergarten that he had to learn before he graduated was met with awws  and cheers of the older women. much like what would happen at his mother’s foodbank in the city, he was a fan favorite of the elder volunteers. 

the rest of the welcome wagon cruzed by, and soon sunoo sat down on their new couch in their new living room, looking up at the ceiling. 

he didn’t know much at his age, but he knew the apartment was a lot smaller than their home in the city. or rather— old home. 

sunoo wasn’t used to change, he was a bright and outgoing child, but a child who was easily overwhelmed nonetheless. suddenly being told by his father that he had to move, say goodbye to his friends, say goodbye to his cousin, say goodbye to the old women at the foodbank that would sneak him cookies and candy when Ma wasn’t looking, say goodbye to his old school, and hello to a new life with no one but his parents in the matter of 3 weeks was alot for him. 

what helped was the stories his mother told him on the drive to the small town. she had grown up in this town, a few blocks from their new home. she told him of the playground where she met all her friends, the stores she would go on dates to, the kids she would all babysit for (who’s mothers warmly welcomed her at their new door), and the school she student taught at before becoming a teacher. it was the same school sunoo was going to be going to. 

a new school didn’t really bother sunoo as al ot of kids would be. although known to all in his kindergarten, sunoo’s only true best friend in the city was his cousin jungwon. jungwon and him were inseparable, even if they weren’t already family; they were destined to be best friends. 

before sunoo moved, they made a pinky promise—unbreakable, and the utmost respected form of promise— to always be best friends, no matter what, and to write each other letters to update each other. 

and while sunoo wasn’t looking for a new best friend, he was looking for someone to call a friend. 

little did he know someone would be someones. 

Little sunoo followed his mother into the main hallway of the apartment building, the stairs were steep for his little legs, feeling heavier as the weight of his backpack weighed him down. His mother stopped on the third floor of the stairs and walked to the left. 

My new home. 

Walking through the brown wooden doors, sunoo was met with a pre-furnished living room, his mother coming down a couple weeks ago to meet the movers so that they wouldn’t have to haul everything at once. Sunoo took smaller steps into the open floor, creeping closer to the barstools that sectioned off the kitchen from the living space. Sunoo, even at a young age, realized that this was a smaller home than their old house, but that fact didn’t repulse him. He was comforted by it. The house before felt too big, when he would come home from school where he felt outcasted it felt like putting on a pair of pants that are a size bigger. Too wide, not comfortable, can be morphed into fitting with the proper safety pins and belts. He looked towards his mother’s eyes to be his safety pins, and she always obliged. It was different with his father, he wasn’t the belt that sunoo wanted for his bigger pants, but a man who would rather point out the obscurity of the size and how sunoo didn’t fit in them– telling him to fix it himself. 

But this house felt different, it was just right for him. He wouldn’t have a room on a different floor from his mom, he wouldn’t need to drag his blanket and stuffed animal through the darkness just to find comfort when the nights got too grotesque for sunoo’s impressive childhood imagination. Sunoo looked to his mother, saw a happier shine in the way she smiled at the door thanking the women who kept handing her gifts and food, and he knew it would be better here. For him, but mostly for her. 

The smile quickly flushed from her face as the door closed and they were sat alone with sunoo’s father. Brooding on the leather chair within the living room. 

“Sooyoung they can’t come every day. I have work to do, they can’t be interrupting that.” 

“I know dear.” She chirps as she slys a smile in sunoos direction, cupping his cheek, 

“Sunshine why don’t you go to the playground right outside for a bit, okay?” 

Sunoo knew what this was code for, diversion. It felt wrong to leave his mother alone to defend herself, defend her actions, her people, her town; even if it was his father’s fault for the reason they were here. He will never take the blame, instead placing it onto his coworkers and friends. 

Sunoo nodded and blinked, placing his backpack over his shoulders and waltzing out of the door. He saw the swingset on the drive over, just across the way of the apartment building. Sunoo looked up to the sky and saw the pinks and oranges merging together, giggling to himself he waddled his way to the park bench to open his backpack. For his past birthday, his mother had gifted him a digital camera to take photos with. 

It is his most treasured item. Everyone knew sunoo was the artistic type, it’s what he was a prodigy for. But what his father promoted him as wasn’t his true passions, sunoo loved to paint and capture moments of cheer within his youthful life. He found joy in everything, like he was a walking magnifying glass catered to the good in a world of bad. He quickly snapped a photo of the sky, and secured his camera back in his backpack and carried on skipping. 

Sunoo was swinging his highest record height when he met Jay. It was like it was the universe’s fate bringing him together with such a perfect friend. 

“Woah! I didn’t know these swings could go this high!” Jay had gawked, the just recently turned eight year old stood below, his black hair shading his eyebrows, hands on his hips holding onto the bulky black belt he had snapped around him. 

Sunoo giggled in response, and jay quickly sat in the seat next to him to match his pace. 

“What’s your name? I don’t think i’ve seen you here before.” 

“I’m Sunoo, I just moved in.” Sunoo realized that although jay was at a lower height on the swings, they matched pace, facing each other. The only time in Sunoo’s life that he would be taller than Jay. 

“Ohhhh my grandma mentioned a girl and her family coming back. You’re from Seoul, right? You sound different.” The twang in the small town dialect was emphasized, almost over dramatic in a sense to make a point. 

Sunoo nodded his head. 

“Are the buildings as tall as they say in the books and magazines? I read that only Godzilla is taller than them.” 

Jay was an endearing small boy, inquisitive to the entire universe. Much like Sunoo, he was willing to see the good in everything around him, charismatic energy build in within his veins, a magnet to those in his class. However, unlike Sunoo who was trained to be smart and factual, Jay was willing to be a walking encyclopedia. Quickly switching conversation to many fun facts of the world around them, like what flowers are different in Seoul than the town, how the difference in flowers means different allergies, how sunoo should monitor when and where he sneezes for the next few months to see if he’s allergic to certain things. 

It wasn’t like sunoo wasn’t a talker, he was actually quite well known back in his Seoul school to be pretty expressive. So the shock of someone talking more than him was something he did not know was possible. But it was fresh, Jay was equally as curious into sunoo, as sunoo was to him and this area. 

Sunoo was excited to have a friend, Jay. His first friend he made in his new life. 

“Sunghoon is gonna be so excited to see someone new in the building.” Jay had held the chocolate ice cream pop into his hand, licking his fingers of the drip. Jay insisted on buying him and Sunoo ice creams to celebrate their new pal status, and to show him the way to the convenience store of the town. 

‘Sunghoon?” Sunoo’s eyes blinked in anticipation, two friends and it’s only my first day, Wonie is going to be so excited. 

“He’s my best friend, he lives on the third floor of the building– wait hey! That means he’s your neighbor! We’ve been friends since we were born. He loves meeting new people.” Jay looked towards his bulky plastic watch that had the markings of a cartoon character on them, “He should be coming home soon!” Jay quickly shot up, waving his hand for sunoo to take as they walked back towards their building. 

Sunoo almost didn’t want to leave, looking back on the playground wanting to drag his feet. But jay was persistent, and he had no choice. He knew the moment he came back the fighting would be over, his mother would be in the kitchen, his father probably setting up his office in silence. 

It almost worried sunoo, but as he looked towards the orange sky, and his friend infront of him clasping his hand; sunoo knew that this new town wasn’t going to be bad. 

sh.

“Thank you! Remember to ration the food for tonight!” 

sunghoon heard his father speak to a customer as they left the door. they brought in a tiny chihuahua who had the flu. Sunghoon wasn’t too fond of chihuahuas, they were too loud for him, too squeaky. He didn’t hate all tiny dogs though, his dog Gaeul was the perfect princess of a small dog; pampered to be clean, fed, and well behaved. Sunghoon never had any other siblings after his mother passed when he was 3, but Gaeul gave him enough sass as a younger sister would’ve. He grabbed the cleaner and the wipes and started wiping the surfaces of his father’s office he enjoyed this: helping his dad in any way he could at work. Adored his father, and always wanted to be as much of his dad as he could. Although no one would trust their pets under the care of a seven year old, they did enjoy the company of one to talk to out in the waiting room. 

sunghoon was always a quiet kid, but for some reason whenever his dad would bring him to the clinic, he would have the urge to just talk to anyone he could. he saw how his dad did it with ease as he grew up, talking with patients, people at the market, women who would come over every once in a while. he saw how easy his dad did it. and he wanted it to come easy to him to. But every time he tried, he never succeeded in the level of charisma or confidence that his revered dad had. Which is why he can only be grateful for his best friend jay. 

sunghoon and jay don’t really remember the exact time or date they became friends. they were just always there together, i guess being in the same apartment helped expedite the process, but their bond was there from the start. Almost as foils, jay and sunghoon completed each other like yin and yang. 

“Bud, you ready to go?” His father cut off his though process, smiling as he placed his glasses on top of his head. 

Most of their weekend nights ended like this, Sunghoon and his dad walking back from the clinic, stopping at a local food cart for some food, and ending at home to where jay would come over to play video games. 

The orange sky gave sunghoon a sense of comfort, it was like he knew this day was going to be remembered; something about the calm of this day in particular of this routine masking his brain in a warm blanket. The beef that was charred on the stick his father handed to him was extra chewy and tender, the spice minimal, and the lemonade quenching. His father was talking to him about how he knew what was wrong with each of the animals they saw today, and although sunghoon still didn’t have a full grasp on the terms, he listened tentatively. 

From the street sunghoon saw the lights on the roof of the building on, normally that only happened when there was major holidays or family parties that one of the inhabitants were planning. But due to the community built within the building, the rest of the residents were always informed so that they would be aware of the commotion. Sunghoon didn’t like not knowing things, he liked being able to plan ahead. He had a routine for every day, sundays for example included sunghoon washing him and his fathers clothes, and prepping his outfits for the week. Taking into account the colors of shoes he was wearing, to pair with the accessories he decorated with. He wasn’t too crazy he would tell himself, there were days where his routines fell apart, and he knew that he couldn’t be totally in control of others around him. However, in everything that he could control, his knowledge, his observations, he prided himself on being aware and secure in that sanctuary of thought. 

Which is why when they walk up the steps to their floor, and sunghoon sees jay hand in hand with a new face surrounded by cluttered boxes in the hallway of his home, his blood starts to pop like fireworks. His eyes grow large towards his father, who looked completely unfazed at the stranger breaking into their building. The kid looked small, but what was sunghoon to assume from that? A small pale kid could totally break into a building with enough force and energy, and Sunghoon did not like that the way the child beamed at him, that he was confirming his psychopathic ways. 

Jay caught him before he could clutter the hallway more, nice one jay! 

When his father walks paces before sunghoon, is when his vision fully tunnels. His dad squats down to be eye level with the child, placing his glasses back over his eyes, and smiling the grin sunghoon wish he had gotten in his genetics, instead of hearing “oh you have the face of your mother” who he has no idea what standard that’s supposed to hold. 

“You must be the kid from next door, right? What’s your name buddy?” 

Buddy? Why is his father being so nice to an intruder? 

“I’m Sunoo sir!” The intruder says before his father pats his head.
“Well Sunoo, i’m Mr. Park, and that’s my son Sunghoon.” 

Betrayal. Now he was compromised and the intruder knows his information. 

Sunghoon makes eye contact with jay, who’s smiling so wide he almost can’t communicate with looks anymore. 

Who is this? Sunghoon frows his eyebrows to get his question across 

Jay walks closer to Sunghoon, as the small boy knocks on the door across from his own’s, and opens it up to a tall pretty woman. 

“That’s Sunoo! He’s kid of the new family that replaced the Kang’s.” 

Mrs. Kang had passed away early in the year, and the family had decided it would’ve been best for Mr. Kang to live with his daughter in the neighboring town so that he wouldn’t be alone. 

Bitterness swells in his stomach like a reminiscent of eating a tart cherry. 

“They don’t have any pets, which sucks, but sunoo said that he has his own TV! Like IN. HIS. ROOM. Eomma told me that was illegal!” Jay whispered the last statement, like the cops were going to beat at his door if he spoke a decimal higher. 

the smaller boy turns his head toward sunghoon, a huge smile flashing on his face, it almost blinds sunghoon. 

sunghoon hates shiny things. 

He looked towards his father who was not surprised at all, but rather giving the woman the extra bag of tteokbokki they had picked up earlier. Sunghoon assumed he had bought it to save the trip tomorrow. 

sunghoon turned back to the two boys, who seemed to be getting along well. but he couldn’t explain the bile that arose in the pit of his chest. he didn’t wanna hang out with some kid, and now this kid was going to be everywhere he looked.  It didn't help that he could see his best friend was enamored with the tiny thing, but this is the same guy who has a collection of tiny figurines above his bed. 

sunghoon didn’t like what was going to happen. not one bit. 

“We’re having a welcome party on the roof tonight, you’re gonna come, right?” 

Sunghoon sighed in his mind, video games were necessarily his favorite past time, but he enjoyed the saturday nights where jay and him laid on the ground playing until jay’s mom banged on the door to bring him back upstairs. 

Jay pulled on his arm, “Come onnn Sunghoon, Grandma Lee already bought all the best beef at the market, you and Uncle Park have to come.” 

The kid looked up at him with wide eyes, sunghoon could see the exact pantone of his color of brown that lightened as he smiled. He looked like a fox, sunghoon never dealt with those before, most dogs and cats, the occasional bird and hamster, but never anything wild. 

Sunghoon didn’t like not knowing who this kid was, his intentions, his place here, where he was from. He had to investigate more, so reluctantly he nodded his head and agreed. 

Soon enough he was chilled from the summer night breeze, bumps forming on his skin that mimicked the bubble fizz of the pop chugging down his throat. To his left, the adults and elders of the building were huddled around a table drinking beer and conversing about stories of the pretty woman’s past. Sunghoon gathered that she used to live here, and that the dark broadening man next to her and the virus to his right were from seoul. 

He looked towards jay and sunoo, who were hunched over a portable console, their heads nearly knocking together as they excitedly mashed buttons. Jay’s tongue stuck out in concentration while Sunoo giggled every time he pulled off some flashy move. Sunghoon rolled his eyes. Of course, Jay had already adopted the kid like he was some rare collectible.

Sunghoon wasn’t sure what irked him more—the way Sunoo fit in so easily, or the fact that Jay, his best friend, seemed to be treating him like he was something special. It wasn’t like Sunghoon was jealous. No way. He just… didn’t like change. They had always done things as a duo, things in threes never made sense. Even numbers made sense, counting by twos made sense, the buddy system made sense. This just didn’t make sense. 

Taking another sip of his soda, he let his gaze drift across the rooftop, the dim string lights casting a warm glow over everyone. It was one of those nights where the town hummed in the distance, but up here, everything felt close, like their own little world.

Then, as if sensing his stare, Sunoo turned his head and locked eyes with him. He smiled—bright, open, like he had already decided Sunghoon wasn’t someone to be wary of.

Sunghoon bristled.

“What?” he muttered, voice just loud enough to be heard over the chatter.

Sunoo tilted his head, then scooted a little closer, wrapping his arms around his knees. “Nothing. You just look like you don’t want to be here.”

Jay, still focused on the game, snorted. “That’s just his face.”

Sunghoon kicked his shin, making Jay yelp and nearly drop the console. Sunoo laughed, a high, bubbly sound that made something twist in Sunghoon’s chest. He frowned, looking away.

This kid was going to be a problem. He just knew it.

The night air was cool, the scent of grilled meat lingering as laughter echoed around the rooftop. Sunghoon watched as Jay and Sunoo sat cross-legged across from him, their faces glowing under the string lights that hung above. He wasn’t sure how he got roped into sitting with them instead of sneaking off after eating, but here he was.

Sunoo was the first to break the silence between them. “So, do you always look this grumpy, or is it just when I’m around?”

Jay snorted, barely holding in his laughter, but Sunghoon shot him a glare before turning back to Sunoo. “I don’t look grumpy.”

Sunoo tilted his head. “Mmm… yeah, you kinda do.”

Sunghoon exhaled sharply. “That’s just my face.”

Sunoo gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “Oh no, you’re one of those people? Resting mean face?”

Jay nodded eagerly. “He totally is. But it’s okay, you get used to it.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “I’m sitting right here.”

“Don’t worry, I think it’s kinda cool,” Sunoo said with a grin. “Makes you look mysterious. Like one of those guys in a drama with a tragic backstory.”

Jay burst into laughter, but Sunghoon just frowned. “I don’t have a tragic backstory.”

Sunoo gasped again, even more exaggerated this time. “That’s exactly what someone with a tragic backstory would say.”

Sunghoon shook his head, but he could feel the corners of his lips twitching. “You watch too many dramas.”

Sunoo shrugged. “Maybe. But tell me I’m wrong.”

Sunghoon thought about arguing, but the way Sunoo was looking at him—challenging, teasing, like he wasn’t intimidated by him at all—made him decide against it. Instead, he sighed and picked up his drink.

“I’m not mysterious,” he said simply.

Sunoo grinned. “Not yet, anyway.”

Jay clapped his hands together. “See? I told you guys you’d get along.”

Sunghoon raised a brow. “We’re not getting along.”

Sunoo leaned in, smirking. “We totally are.”

And for some reason, although he doesn’t realize it now, Sunghoon didn’t hate that idea as much as he thought he would.

Chapter Text

SH. Sunghoon woke up later in the early summer warmth, his window open askew to let the wind circulate the heat and birth a breeze. He heard screams that he had become all too familiar with from the outside. Begrudgingly he sat up and stared out the window, looking down at jay playing basketball on the courts outside, and Sunoo scribbling with chalk cheering for him. Sunoo stretched his thin arms back and sat up straight, curving his head toward the direction of the window. 

Sunghoon locked eyes with the boy as the latter smiled wide and waved him to come down. The older boy rolled his eyes and mouthed “I’m coming!” before closing the window and turning to get ready. 

It’s been a little over a month since Sunoo moved in and sunghoon still isn’t there 100%. He still only grabs two ice creams, two sodas, two umbrellas out of customary routine. Which has led Sunoo to share one with him, as he didn’t want to seem like a complete jerk. Sunghoon really did want to warm up to Sunoo, he wasn’t non-empathetic towards the small boy. It was just hard to adjust to the newer situation. Jay kept saying it was them three against the world, and Sunghoon knew jay would do anything for him, and him the same; but when it came to Sunoo in a life or death situation, he knew he would hesitate. 

And that made everything inside him ache with anxiety. Common thoughts rushed into his mind debating if he was a terrible person, if something inside him was broken, if he wasn’t normal, for not being able to befriend someone who was so willing. 

Sunghoon walked out into the living room to put on his sneakers before walking out the door. His father went to the clinic early in the morning, emphasizing to sunghoon that he doesn’t need to come with him every day; that he should enjoy being a kid. But the thought of that pained him, he loved who he became around his dad and patients. It was like a different brain transplants into his body, and the bile he gets that settles in the center of his chest ceases to burn. 

Sunghoon descended the stairs telling himself to achieve his dad’s goal today: just be a kid. He slapped a smile on his face, and dashed towards the park. 

Sunoo was busy using his fingers and a cup of water to spread out the chalk into a mix of colors. He looked about halfway done with drawing an array of flowers, using different techniques and spreads for each of them. If any other kid tried to mimic it, it would look like rainbow emesis; but Sunoo just had the special touch. Jay and Sunghoon quickly became familiar with the younger’s talents in string instruments, paints, piano, sketching, photography, almost anything that Sunoo touched became gold. If he had a passion for something, Sunghoon wouldn’t doubt that he could pick it up within five minutes and win an award for it within the week. 

Sunghoon wouldn’t say he was envious of Sunoo in anything, but he admired the ambition beneath his skin. 

“Finally sleeping beauty decided to join.” Jay said as he threw the  basketball in sunghoon’s direction, sunoo’s head whipping to look at him. 

That’s how their morning routine normally went these days. In good weather, Sunghoon and Jay would play basketball or football in the field, while Sunoo would look on the sidelines as he aimlessly did his own thing. Jay would have Sunoo keep score sometimes, but it would always be missing points due to the little one having his nose buried in his sketches. Then, they would go back inside and Jay’s grandmother would have snacks already prepared for them in the fridge covered in drawings Sunoo gifted her for her kindness. Sunoo would then be beckoned home to practice his instruments, or to attend his summer schooling, and it left Jay and him to their own devices. One would think that by the time Sunoo would leave Sunghoon would feel normal again, but instead he noted the obvious silence that graced them. 

This, however, was a different morning. Majority of families and their kids are back from holiday trips taken during the cooler summer months, meaning the park was more crowded with neighborhood kids. Jay and Sunghoon would still play games, just apart of teams rather than one-on-one, giving them more time to look towards the little boy on the sidelines and make sure he’s okay. 

As Sunghoon passed the ball to his teammate, he looked towards the sidewalk and saw a group of older boys a couple of paces behind Sunoo. They were snickering to themselves as they nudged the tallest boy towards Sunoo. 

“What kind of boy draws stuff like this?” The kid sneered, his pitch black bangs bouncing as he mocked Sunoo, picking up his sketchbook and holding it high above his head flipping through the pages. Sunoo yelped in response and repeatedly spoke out “Give it back!” with tears welling in his eyes. His smaller arms stretch their full length like cheese to try and grasp the edges.  Sunghoon looked for Jay on the court, locked eyes, and their unspoken language fueled them to run off the court. 

Jay came up behind the boy and shoved him over, grabbing the notebook in the midst of being caught off guard. Up close the boys were a couple centimeters shorter than the duo, and Sunghoon assumed they were in the year below them. 

“Leave him alone,” Sunghoon spoke out coldly, eyes heavy and dark looking upon the group of the bully’s friends. None of whom wanted to fight out against the elders. The main bully stands up like a clumsy cat before scurrying away. 

Sunoo snagged the notebook out of Jay’s hand aggressively before clutching it close to his chest and breathing out a heavy sigh, like he wasn’t able to breathe if he was parted from it. 

Sunoo’s cheeks were dashed with pink as he looked up to Jay and Sunghoon, “I could’ve handled it myself.” His eyes dashing to the ground, “But thank you.” 

Jay scoffed. “Sure you could’ve, but we handled it faster.”

Sunghoon said nothing. He could tell Sunoo hated this. Sunghoon had seen the hesitation on his face before they stepped in. He had been frozen. And Sunghoon hadn’t been about to wait around to see what else that guy would say.

Still, something about the way Sunoo clutched his notebook to his chest made Sunghoon’s stomach twist. Sunoo didn’t look relieved—he looked embarrassed, maybe even hurt.

Sunghoon sighed and nudged Sunoo’s shoulder, voice quieter this time. “It’s not a bad thing to let people have your back.”

Sunoo didn’t look at him. Just hugged his notebook tighter and walked away. 

SN Sunoo had never really been big into his birthdays, which is something most children his age wait all year for. But, Sunoo had never been the type to expect much on his birthday. A few hugs from his parents, calls and cards from family members, and then his parents taking him to a high-end restaurant that served food that Sunoo didn’t even like. His mom would normally gift him smaller things in the morning, as the moment they came home from dinner his birthday would be deemed over and he would be back to practicing in his room all alone. 

Sunoo was hoping maybe this year would be different, or at least they wouldn’t go to one of those restaurants that had water in a glass pitcher filled with mint and lemon. However, with the knowledge that his cousin was coming to visit he knew that he would inevitably end up in the same spot he does every year. His father would be talking business with his uncle all night, trying to prove himself more well off than they actually were. With that being said, his cousin was the silver lining in all of this. If he didn’t have Jay and Sunghoon, he still had Jungwon. 

“Sunoo come on out, Jungwonie is here!” His mother shouted in her soft tone from the hallway. 

As Sunoo opened his door he was met with a slam in the chest and the wind taken out of his lungs. The younger boy was the same height as him, most wouldn’t even know that he was a whole year younger than Sunoo. His black hair covering his eyebrows, but his big wide eyes showing all the emotion he needed to convey without exhausting any other muscle in his round face. Sunoo’s thoughts were washed away– even if he had to suffer through this dinner, he had Jungwon's hand to hold under the table and squeeze whenever he got too overwhelmed. 

“Let me see your room!!” Jungwon screamed before grabbing the birthday boy’s hand and slamming the door behind him. Sunoo sat on his light blue bed sheets that were wrinkled from use, Sunoo wasn’t one to make his bed after he woke up, much to everything else in his life it was the one thing he could defy his parents for and not get completely lectured about. 

“Wow.. you haven’t decorated at all.” Jungwon said as he held the straps of his brightly decorated backpack, made ten times heavier with the amount of keychains he had put on it. He took the bag off of his back and squatted to the ground, pulling out a messily wrapped gift with double the tape to compensate for the wrapping paper being cut too small. Sunoo smiled at his cousin’s earnest attempt, and began to unwrap it– revealing a high-end watercolor set. Sunoo’s mouth gaped open, it was the greatest gift he ever received, something he genuinely wanted but didn’t dare to speak out on. He looked with wet eyes  towards his woodend desk where his parents gift sat– a new rosin and metronome for his violin practice. 

“Thank you Wonie, genuinely, I’ll use these well!” Sunoo spoke with such honesty that he let the tear fall down his cheek as he pressed his head into the shoulder of his cousin, wrapping his arms around his waist. This. Was what he needed, the only comfort from his old life, and the one thing he was missing in this new one. He wished Jungwon’s family had moved with them, or that his Uncle and Aunt somehow would’ve thought that village life was better for his academics, or any other arbitrary excuse he would daydream, just to have him by his side. He would get along well with Jay and Sunghoon. Both of which he didn’t inform about today’s specialty, only that he probably wouldn’t be around due to family coming in town. This day of break was probably for the best, as the events of yesterday came back into Sunoo’s mind. 

Within the past couple of months, Sunoo and Sunghoon weren’t immune to fights. They weren’t vulgar, nor did they both take them to heart deep down, until Sunoo felt like he took it too far. They boys were playing around in Sunghoon’s room as the day was rainy, and Sunoo had gotten a bit too excited about the new experience, his clumsiness gene had decided to sprout and he had accidentally broken Sunghoon’s hockey stick he had in the corner of his room. Sunoo had kept stating that it was just an accident, and that he was sorry; but, Sunghoon’s silent acceptance was code for anger. Sunghoon had never lashed out on Sunoo, even in their arguments Sunghoon was at most mildly annoyed, never true rage. Sunoo didn’t know how to react, just viciously apologizing, looking between Jay and Sunghoon’s eyes waiting for them to send him away and never talk to him again. 

I ruined it. They won’t want to be friends anymore. I’m done for, I’ve lost them. 

“It’s okay,” Sunghoon finally spoke before Sunoo’s eyes threatened to spew. 

“Hoon-” Jay tried to console, seeming to know about something deeper that was going on. Something that Sunoo wouldn’t ask about right now. 

“No, I mean it,” He breathed looking towards the broken piece of wood, “I’m not playing hockey anymore anyways.” 

“What?” Both boys questioned, the new information flowing from his mouth like he’s spoken this to them before. 

“Yeah, I’m not playing anymore, I’m staying in basketball though.” 

Sunghoon took the pieces of the once prized hockey stick, and threw them into the trash.

The rest of the night was normal, like the event never happened, but the events still reeled in Sunoo’s mind with guilt as the credited director. 

Jungwon had insisted that they go outside to do their annual swinging catchup, something that would normally occur every weekend in Seoul. 

“Mr. Chen doesn’t know who to make first chair anymore, he tried to put Seungmin there but he wasn’t as good in the strings as he is in the brass, so it was superrrr embarrassing for everyone to watch. Everyone was talking about it all day– well that was until Karina got sick in the middle of theory and threw up ALL over her desk,” Sunoo laughed while listening to the music of  his cousin’s summer music camp gossip, days he is glad are over, but wishes he didn’t feel the nostalgia hitting him. He looked up to the rustling of the bushes that guard the park, meeting a pair of eyes that belong to his friends. He gave them a weak smile, wanting to run away. 

“Sunoo!!!” Jay yelled and ran towards them, his mesh shorts swishing in the wind he was making, Sunoo noted how Sunghoon’s pace picked up but in not as much urgency as the former. Jay’s gaze was quickly distracted as he noticed the younger boy swinging in tandem with Sunoo, and before he knew it, Jay was faceplanted onto the ground. 

“Oh my god! Are you oka-?” Sunoo halted his swinging, Jay standing up as quick as he slammed down.
“I’M FINE.” He assured, brushing off his (going to be bruised) knees, and regaining his composure, “Sunny, who’s this?” 

“I’m Jungwon, we’re cousins!” the youngest spoke, shining his rounded smile that was freshly brushed with charisma. His spell made its way around the older boy’s soul. Sunoo looked towards the silent boy’s direction, who dodged his head away, heat rose on his cheeks. Definitely still mad. 

“This is Jay and Sunghoon, the two friends I was talking about.” Sunoo spoke his words softly, like if he said it any harder he would be setting the boundaries on fire with humiliation and disappointment. But they didn’t deny it, never spoke up to correct him, and that made Sunoo just feel a tad bit better. 

“Do you guys wanna play capture the flag?” Jungwon suggested, and Jay looked towards Sunghoon before agreeing for the both of them. 

The teams were split Jay and Sunghoon, and Jungwon and Sunoo. The older boy’s base was within the fence of the basketball court, and the youngers opted for the top of the playground. Jungwon had made a whole plan in his head before they even started the game, he was going to be on offense while Sunoo was on defense. It was easy enough for Sunoo, although he was intimidated by the fact that the older boys were just that– older, bigger, stronger. But Sunoo had one thing that carries over from all his achievements– competitiveness. He’s going to put up a fight, even if it wears him out. And that excited him, made him feel something he hasn’t felt in a long time. He yearned to paint his moment, the colours of softed gold mixed with extreme evergreen. While thinking of his future project, he was caught off guard, the playground shook from the extra body that had appeared on the other side of the metal drawbridge. Sunghoon’s hair was patched with sweat as he made his way closer. Sunoo’s fingers clenched the red rag behind his back and pushed himself against a corner. 

His heart bounced in the cage of his ribs, growling in anticipation as the taller boy strode faster with his longer legs. 

“Sunoo do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way?” He beconded, his eyes spread with the determination that matched Sunoos. 

‘I’m not giving it up, Hoonie.” Sunoo only used that nickname to irritate Sunghoon more during their squabbles, and Sunghoon knew what he was doing. 

“Then the hard way!” Sunghoon shouted before launching himself towards Sunoo’s arms. 

Sunoo was quicker than him though, crouching down and launching himself down the slide like a torpedo. His plan was to run Sunghoon around in circles– technically not breaking the rules of the flag boundary. They chased each other around the metal, the heat radiating off of it, making Sunoo break a sweat for what he thinks maybe the first time in his life. 

They were at a standstill, the structure in the middle of the two, the metal bridge (that Sunghoon could easily duck under and charge at him at any moment) separating their sides like pawns in a chess game. Sunghoon being the lonesome bishop trying to checkmate Sunoo’s king. 

Sunoo knew he had limited time, and decided that by now Jungwon had to have gotten hold of the blue rag, he needed to stall. 

“I’m sorry about your hockey stick! I understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore.” Sunoo shouted, half distraction and more so a remorseful plea. He wasn’t one to keep emotions in too much, he would normally toss them away onto a canvas, but everything about Sunghoon made it hard to do that. Every squabble, every night the trio would hang out into late, every day he’s grown closer to Sunghoon so far, he wasn’t able to pinpoint his colors enough to spread them out. He knew he was friends with Jay, it was easy with him; he was constantly reassuring and including him in everything, telling him things, indulging him, spoiling him. Sunghoon didn’t do that, he was silent, exposed Jay for spoiling him, being too indulgent. 

Sunghoon froze mid-movement, like he almost didn’t register what Sunoo said.

Sunoo looked away, biting his lip. "I know it was important to you. I didn’t mean to break it."

For a moment, the only sound was their breathing, and Sunoo thought he was about to lose the game, but most importantly lose Sunghoon. Then, Sunghoon sighed, stepping back.

"You think I care about that stupid stick more than you?" he said, shaking his head.

Sunoo blinked, caught off guard. "I—I don’t know. You were so mad."

Sunghoon scratched the back of his neck. "I was annoyed for like, a second. But then you just… stopped talking to me like you thought I hated you or something."

Sunoo shifted on his feet, heart pounding, "I just—thought you’d rather not be friends anymore."

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, then without warning, reached out and flicked Sunoo’s forehead. Sunoo’s grip on the rag tightened, almost letting his brain think that Sunghoon is only saying this to distract him from the game and he doesn’t truly mean it. 

Sunoo yelped, rubbing the spot. "What was that for?!"

"For being an idiot," Sunghoon muttered. "Of course we’re still friends. You think I’d let you hold onto the flag for this long if I wasn’t?"

“Oh you’re not letting me hang on to anything, I’m defending perfectly fine on my own.” Sunoo challenged, and this time he knew everything was okay. 

He dashed away from Sunghoon, charging back up the structure to the original spot. Sunghoon wasn’t too far behind, acting like he wasn’t already putting his 100 percent into the game. 

Sunoo stared at him, then let out a small, relieved laugh. "You’re an idiot, too."

Sunghoon grinned. "Yeah, but at least I’m an idiot who’s about to win."

“Not too sure about that!” Sunoo said, before pulling his prior trick of dashing down the slide, only this time it wasn’t so graceful– he was met with a face full of mulch as his sneakers had failed to gain traction on the plastic. Sunghoon’s shoes seemed to either do the same failed mechanic, or the shock of seeing Sunoo’s crash out made him lose balance and he landed ontop of the poor birthday boy. 

“Sunoo are you okay?” He spoke, trying to sit Sunoo up. 

Sunoo winced his eyes before opening them fully and looking past the older boy’s worry. 

“Oh I definitely am, because we just won.” He giggled, tossing the red rag into Sunghoon’s face and matching the cheers of Jungwon who was on top of the monkey bars. 

The four boys elapsed in giggles and laughs as they recounted their battles, Sunghoon and Sunoo hearing about how Jungwon was able to macgyver his way around Jay. Sunoo felt free, like this was the birthday he was always supposed to be having. One that made him feel like a normal kid, celebrating the way he was supposed to. 

“SUNOO WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” A large man growled from behind the bushes, “GET INSIDE AND CHANGE NOW.” 

Sunoo worked on autopilot, suddenly his reality falling back into place as the dream he was just having faded away. The rose colored glasses he painted were falling off as he noticed how dirty he got, the sweat mixing with the bruises and residue from the mulch fall. 

His father’s march charged faster, the closer he came, the closer the man reeled in vicious anger. 

“What the hell happened to you! We’re supposed to go to dinner in 10 minutes, get the hell to your room to wash up and change.” His eyes ducked to Jungwon, “You’re cousin is perfectly clean, how could you be so irresponsible!” 

“I’m sorry Sir.” Sunoo spoke, his whole personality that was splattered over the canvas of today being covered with white to mask the dream he dared to escape to. 

Sunoo tried to look towards his friends, but he knew that would make it worse, so he gathered himself and ran up to his room. 

Jungwon caught up with him and held his hand, helping him wipe off all the dirt and matching his button up with the correct belt. Leaving Sunoo some time for his head to just go blank, and relive the colors in his mind, trying not to forget them before he was able to dip into his sketchbook. 

SH After Jay and him had been told by Jungwon that it was Sunoo’s birthday, Jay went full manic mode. Sunghoon has only ever seen him this way when Sunghoon almost washed his colors with his whites, and Jay had to give him a full lecture about the importance of bleach use and how to maintain the dye in the outfits. He’s sure it was just repeated from his Grandmother, but he was going to let him have his teaching moment. 

They quickly rushed to the rooftop and turned on the lights, with the limited decorations they had they made little flowers from construction paper, and taped white printer paper together writing in big letters “ HAPPY BIRTHDAY SUN oo” As they ran out of room, and Jay’s grandmother only allowed them to take a limited amount of paper. 

It looked really makeshift, but it was the best the duo could do. 

Sunghoon sat down and sipped on one of the pops that they bought at the corner store, making sure not to take one of the peach drinks that Sunoo loves. He thought about their conversation on the playground, how this whole time Sunoo thought he was angry with him. If he was being completely honest, he was, for longer than he admitted to Sunoo. The hockey stick was a gift to him from his mother when he had told her he wanted to do it. She had taken him ice skating every winter, and he wanted to have her watch him skate year round. But he was right, he didn’t want the reminder, and he was truly going to give up hockey. His father wasn’t really a fan, and it freed up his winter months to help out at the clinic more. His father was a basketball fan, and Sunghoon was good at it. It made more logical sense to keep at something he was good at than to relish in something that only brought him darker memories. 

Jay was to his left, looking over the edge to see when Sunoo’s parents had arrived. 

“I feel bad, we didn’t know.” 

“He didn’t tell us.” Sunghoon said, trying to feel better. 

“It’s not like we asked either, he knows our birthdays.” 

Silence surrounded them, but they were used to it. Comfortable silence happened often with them, they were able to communicate without words. 

“My gift to him is to be a better friend. He’s a good kid, and he’s fun to be around.” Jay spoke, like he was just noting things in his own mind. 

“Yeah, he’s a good kid.” Sunghoon spoke like he wasn’t just a few months older than him. He sipped on his drink as Jay jumped with excitement.
“They’re back!” 

The duo rushed down the steps to meet the family, both of them more weary of Mr. Kim then they were before. They had never seen him lash out at Sunoo like that before, but now all those times of Sunoo not wanting to join them for games, or stay out too late, all made more sense to them then him just not wanting to participate. 

They bowed to the family, and Jungwon waved with all his energy at them. Him and Sunoo were wearing matching white button-ups with different solid colored ties. Sunghoon thinks that he doesn’t even own a fancy button-up, the dinners him and his father went to were more t-shirt and pants sit-down restaurants. Sunoo tried to smile towards them, keeping an eye on his father the whole time. 

“Sunoo we have a gift for you!” Jay spoke out, gaining the attention of the whole family that stood in front. 

“Sunoo has to practice.” His father spoke, the alcohol perfuming the air. 

Sunoo’s mother leaned down to meet their eyes, “Maybe Sunoo can get your gift tomorrow?” Her eyes glossed with apology and irised with kindness. 

“But, it’s not really something to wait until tomorrow.” 

“Well then I’m sorry boys, but he just won’t get it. I’m sure he doesn’t need any other gift, right Sunoo?” Mr. Kim sternly said, his hand resting on Sunoo’s trembling shoulder. 

“He’s right, I really should practice, especially with my new metronome!” Sunoo spoke in a way Sunghoon had never seen before, like it was a completely different person than the friend he had just been tussling over a rag with. His shoulders were back, his chest puffed out, his breathing paced with elegance. It seemed all so… fake, to Sunghoon. 

Disappointment rushed over Jay and his face, as they accepted the fate that they wouldn’t have been able to give Sunoo his special night. It wasn’t even to give him the gift anymore, it was to let him have more fun on his birthday. They followed behind a few paces as they walked back to their floors. Jungwon’s parents had gone back to the hotel they were staying at closer to the center of town, leaving Jungwon to have a sleepover. Jay grasped his hand to pull him back for a second. 

“Is there any way you can get him to the roof?” Jay plotted. 

Jungwon looked puzzled at first, before a wicked grin of determination erose on his rounded cheeks. 

“Leave it to me, give me like 30 minutes.” Jungwon saluted before speeding up his little legs and walking in to Sunoo’s home. 

In exactly 30 minutes, not a second more or less, Jungwon had appeared on the stairs on the side of the building with Sunoo in their pajamas. Jungwon’s were a matching set of dinosaurs, while Sunoo’s were a solid navy. It looked adorable, truly like a child aging backwards rather than forward. 

“How was that possible?” Jay awed. 

“I’m magical.” Jungwon teased and puffed his chest. 

“Father was in his study, Jungwon thought of the crazy idea of playing my violin from my MP3 after we said goodnight to my Mother, and then we left from the window.” 

It was then Sunghoon learned to never mess with Jungwon again, the kid had a brain he was in awe of. 

Sunoo looked upon the disarray of streamers that the duo tossed around at the last minute and began to cry. His soft sob caught Sunghoon off guard. Sunoo would be emotional before, the duo was used to the small boy with his big emotions; normally Sunghoon would sigh and wish for him to stop, but this time was different. His chest ached, seeing the story within the smaller boy’s eyes, wishing for comfort all day and this being the only one he’s found. 

“Th-a-n” he hiccups between sobs, “k, you guys.” He rolls it off the tongue before pushing his head into Jungwon’s shoulder as a makeshift tissue. 

Sunghoon felt his mouth open slightly, his autopilot reminding him to breathe a breath he didn’t know he was holding hostage. His blood simmered down as everything came together, stirring into an angry boil. Angry at Sunoo? No . Anger fueled towards the man that seemed to beat down the child in front of him. Sunghoon looks at the crying boy and sees him for what he truly is–unloved, uncherished, unappreciated. It irks him, even when he was the one who was teasing Sunoo for his practice hours, teasing him for his “goody-two-shoes” attitude, teasing him for being a voice of reason that mimicked an adult’s lecture every time him and Jay mentioned doing something mildly adventurous. 

Sunghoon was 10 years old when he realized that Sunoo was older than him– not in structure, not in strength, but in resilience. 

Chapter Text

Sn. 

As the years move on, the suns and rains help the boys sprout up into their adolescent years. Them thinking their older than they are because they grew a couple inches– Sunoo still a couple inches shorter than the two older boys. They grew up like any other kids, with a few hiccups in life here and there, a few feuds, many sleepovers, and unconditional support between the trio. 

Sunoo had many concerts and events where he would finish his piece, and he would look into the auditorium or venue seatings and see the two boys cheering for him louder than others. They were his personal fanboys, consistently in awe in the way he can create such gentle melodies with his tiny hands. Jay always has bandaids ready because theyve been familiar with the routine of Sunoo always pressing too hard on his strings during concerts, and Sunghoon would always bring enough money for them to get tteokbokki after Sunoo would come home from going out to “celebratory dinners” that his father used as ways to make business connections with the other privileged music kids’ parents. Sunoo’s father didn’t hate Sunghoon and Jay, he just hates that Sunoo does not have friends in the bracket of money that would help him. A Vet and a retired nurse turned soup kitchen owner really aren’t the type of crowd a tech-start up connoisseur really wants to make his company. 

There was one year where they didn’t show up for Sunoo’s concert where he was presenting his own self-written and composed piece, it was made with the feelings of him, Jay, and Sunghoon on the swings. That freedom, that flight, that feather growth of his wings he wish he could use to soar away from his father. It was also the year Sunghoon and Jay aged into the new school building, while Sunoo was left alone for a year. Originally, he didn’t believe anything was going to change. Sunoo was used to not being able to see them in class, and the small gatherings during class breaks at the water fountain were enough for him; because he knew he would always end the day walking back home with them. He had emphasized to them how it was his final presentation at this academy before he was changed to a different age bracket that was more intense on skills he was insecure in, they had always reassured him saying he would adapt in no-time, and would be playing circles around the competition, but he knew that was just pleasantries. Sunoo had played the best he has ever felt, he was given a standing ovation as the main set for the event, he looked towards the back of the auditorium where Sunghoon and Jay would stand out in their jeans and t-shirts that were like highlighters among the Times New Roman suits and dresses. But there was no one, he held on hope that they had been hiding and would surprise him afterwards, spoiling him with flowers, ice cream, and chocolate– but there was none. Instead, Sunoo sat in a tight suit and tie at a high-end restaurant on the richer-part of the town with his parents, and Wonyoung’s parents and siblings. If Sunoo had one sort-of friend within his class, it would be the popular girl of the class. She was a fantastic cello player, and was mostly notorious for her ballet. She was kind, and always included Sunoo in everything, but she wasn’t his best friends. 

No, his best friends were at a party for the secondary school’s basketball team. Jay had wanted to go in order for them to have a better shot socially once try-outs occured the next month. Once they came home, drunk for the first time, giggling and acting like fools on the rooftop, Sunoo felt his heart cool and pool in his stomach. He wasn’t mad, nor disappointed, he was afraid. Soon it was settled, it took a week of Sunghoon and Jay doing anything they could to make it up to him, how they mixed up the days. 

Sunghoon had set up his father’s office the following week, when Sunoo was finally talking to them again, with metal chairs, and they had Sunoo sit on an assessment table with his violin and perform them the song. After that, they had a long talk on the walk home on their ways of communication, how they need to be more sensitive to each other’s important things. 

And that’s how Sunoo is in turn their biggest cheerleader in secondary school. School and life were separate in his eyes. Sunoo had long accepted his place in the shadows. While the halls of their high school buzzed with energy, his presence barely stirred the air. He wasn’t invisible—people knew his name, whispered about his talent, envied the ease with which he played the violin—but he was distant, untouchable in a way that left him just outside the world of late-night hangouts and carefree laughter. Meanwhile, Jay and Sunghoon thrived under the bright lights of the gymnasium, their names chanted by the crowd, their jerseys worn by underclassmen who idolized them. They belonged to the school in a way that Sunoo never did, their world a sharp contrast to his quiet existence

He went to every single one of their games, both for school and for play. Granted, there were times their schedules collided and made an agreement to both talk about it afterwards over ice cream. Sunoo didn’t understand basketball terms, but he loved seeing the passion in their eyes as they relived the game. Seeing Sunghoon so energetic and louder than normal always lit a spark in Sunoo’s heart as a reminder for his eyes and brain to savor the moment, remember every detail and store it in the Sunghoon file buried in there. 

One spring day, he sat upon the hill of makeshift bleachers onto the basketball court where a group of adolescent boys were sweating their hearts out to an oily beat under the newly warm sun. Sunoo was paired up with a book– he said he would go to the games, not pay attention to every one– while a group of girls in his class were prettying themselves with different powders and shades of tubes. Sunoo couldn’t hide his curiosity, his darting eyes were dancing across dangerous anxiety as he would look towards the girls giggling amongst each other. 

“Sunoo!” Wonyoung yelled in her bright voice, “Do you mind if we try?” she was always a sweetheart to all  in their school. She wore her heart on her sleeve, everything she did was sincere. It was just the type of girl she was. “Come on, it’ll be fun,” almost speaking with her eyes telling him not to worry, “You have the perfect eyes for it.” Sunoo was then surrounded by squealing girls who nicknamed him their ken doll. He felt comfort, and safety. In a different sense in how he felt with sunghoon and jay of course, They made him laugh, they let him experiment, they gossiped with him. 

They gossiped WITH him. Not ABOUT him.

“Sunoo, you’re close with sunghoon right?” one of the girls asked darting her eyes to Wonyoung. 

“Yeah of course! Him and Jay are my best friends, why?” 

The girl sat in a crisscross with her shoulders back next to sunoo as he faced forward to wonyoung applying mascara on him. 

“Soooo… do you know if he likes anyone?” Sunoo started coughing as the mascara brush poked his eye. He yelped in pain as his eye stinged with the poke and flowed with the feeling of black swarming his iris. One of the girls held out a tissue as he let his tears wash the makeup out like a dishwasher with debris. 

“Hoonie doesn’t really talk about people he likes.” The girls frowned, “Neither does Jay! So. I dont really know, I’m sorry.” He looked down. 

The girls seemed disappointed, he worried he wasn’t impressing them any more. “I can ask if you guys wa-” 

“NO!” Wonyoung shouted, “No, sunoo you don’t have to do that at all. Liz is just being nosy.” 

“Hey I’m not the one who likes him!” Liz laughed and poked wonyoung’s leg. 

Oh. Yeah. Of course Wonyoung would like sunghoon. 

Sunoo didn’t like that much. She was perfect, she was everyones dream girl. He wouldn’t be shocked if Sunghoon, or even Jay, found themselves crushing on her. He didn’t know why he didn’t. He longed to be her friend, but whenever he watched dramas and try to imagine himself as the male lead with any girl in his class– his mind would go blank. All of his creativity would stagger and the notes in his mind would ring a sour flat minor. 

The girls quickly moved onto different conversations as they planted blush on Sunoo’s subconsciously reddening cheeks. There was a final cheer that was Sunoo’s signal that the game had ended and the boys were dismissing, he turned to grab his book to meet the duo on the court and walk home. 

“Oh sunoo wait!” Wonyoung grabbed his wrist before he trucked down the hill to meet jay and sunghoon, “Here, I figured you would want to see how pretty we made you!” She showed him a hand held mirror with the biggest smile, “You need to be my canvas more, you’re already cute enough I just made you sparkle.” 

And she did. Sunoo almost didn’t recognize himself, because at such a young age he didn’t realize how much he didn’t feel like himself until now. It wasn’t heavy makeup, she didn’t even do foundation or concealer, but she applied a small line of darkened eyeliner with a brown shimmer in his corner. The shimmer made his almond colored eyes pop more, and his cheeks blushed harder under the pink tint wonyoung put on him. He was himself. A person he didn’t truly feel like in his whole life until now. Everything clicked. 

“Oh, sunghoon.” Wonyoung brushed her hair behind her ear,  as he felt presences appear behind him “You played amazing today.” 

Sunoo barely had time to react before Wonyoung’s attention drifted past him, her voice laced with a hint of shyness that Sunoo had never really heard from her before. He turned slightly, only to find Sunghoon standing behind him, his usual sweat-slicked hair clinging to his forehead, the fabric of his jersey clinging to his frame from the effort he had put into the game. Beside him, Jay was already chugging down half a bottle of water, oblivious to anything but cooling himself down.

But Sunghoon wasn’t looking at Wonyoung. He wasn’t even acknowledging her compliment. His gaze was locked onto Sunoo, expression unreadable.

Sunoo swallowed, suddenly aware of how warm his face felt—not just from the sun, or the makeup, but from the intensity of Sunghoon’s stare.

“You…” Sunghoon started, trailing off as he tilted his head slightly. His eyes flickered across Sunoo’s face, lingering on the shimmer at the corner of his eyes, the hint of liner making them stand out even more than usual. Sunoo felt small under the scrutiny, suddenly regretting letting the girls have their fun.

Had he gone too far? Would Sunghoon tease him? Call him weird?

Jay finally pulled his water bottle away from his lips and followed Sunghoon’s gaze, squinting at Sunoo before breaking into a wide grin. “Whoa, Sunoo, you actually look kinda—”

“Pretty.” Sunghoon’s voice cut through, quiet but sure.

Sunoo’s breath hitched.

Jay turned to him, eyebrows raised in mild surprise, while Wonyoung beamed beside him, clearly pleased with the assessment. “Right? I told you he would!” she chirped, nudging Sunoo playfully. “Sunoo’s got those perfect features—he’s like, naturally gorgeous.”

Sunghoon’s lips pressed together slightly, his eyes still lingering on Sunoo’s face. His usual sharp gaze softened, something unreadable swirling behind his brown irises. For a brief second, it almost looked like he wanted to reach out—to touch, to trace the shimmer at the corner of Sunoo’s eye, to confirm that it was real. But instead, he just exhaled sharply and looked away, running a hand through his damp hair as though trying to shake off whatever thought had just crossed his mind.

“Yeah,” he muttered, turning toward Jay. “Let’s get changed.”

Jay nodded, stretching his arms out with a groan. “Right, I feel disgusting. Sunoo, you coming with us?”

Sunoo hesitated. Sunghoon hadn’t said anything mean. He hadn’t laughed or teased him. But for some reason, the way he had looked at him—like he had been caught off guard, like he had seen something he wasn’t supposed to—made Sunoo feel even more out of place than if he had been mocked outright.

He clutched the book to his chest, offering a small smile. “I think I’ll head home first.”

Wonyoung frowned. “Oh, but I wanted to wipe off your makeup before—”

“It’s fine,” Sunoo said quickly, not wanting to linger any longer. “Thanks for today, Wonyoung. Really.”

And with that, he turned and hurried down the hill, feeling his heartbeat stutter as Sunghoon’s eyes burned into his back.

Sunoo had barely made it past the edge of the court when a firm hand caught his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. He knew who it was before he even turned around.

“Come to my place first.”

Sunghoon’s voice was quieter than usual, but it left no room for argument. Sunoo looked up, startled, only to be met with Sunghoon’s serious expression. His usual easygoing demeanor was gone, replaced with something unreadable.

“What?” Sunoo blinked, pulling his hand back slightly. “Why?”

Sunghoon hesitated, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening before lowering his voice. “You shouldn’t go home looking like that.”

Sunoo’s stomach twisted.

He knew what Sunghoon meant.

His father.

The man who never outright said anything cruel, but let his disapproval simmer in the heavy silence. The man who always commented when Sunoo’s clothes were “too flashy” or his mannerisms “too soft.” The man who expected him to be a proper, well-behaved son—the kind that didn’t come home with glitter in the corners of his eyes and pink dusting his cheeks.

“I…” Sunoo swallowed, suddenly feeling smaller. “It’s not that bad.”

Sunghoon’s expression darkened. “You know it is.”

Sunoo’s fingers tightened around his book. He hated this—hated that Sunghoon knew, that Jay probably knew too. Hated that it was so obvious, that he was so predictable.

But more than that…

More than that, he hated that Sunghoon cared.

Because it made the ache in his chest worse, and he was utterly terrified at what that was truing to tell him. 

Sunghoon sighed and ran a hand through his damp hair again, clearly frustrated. “Just come over. Wash your face at my place, and then go home.”

Sunoo hesitated, but the weight of Sunghoon’s gaze left no room for pride.

“…Okay.”

He didn’t look up at Sunghoon as he spoke. He didn’t want to see whatever was in his eyes—concern, pity, protectiveness—because all of it would make the warmth growing in his chest even more unbearable.

Instead, he just let himself be led away, walking in silence beside the boy who had unknowingly turned his entire world upside down.

Sunoo moved quickly at Sunghoon’s house, in the well organized older boy’s bathroom he scrubbed his eyes with water that felt like it burned as it mixed with the forming tears. He scrubbed at his hands, scrubbing at his disgust, the dirt that wasn’t on his skin but underneath it as his mind swirled and obsessed over the ache in his heart. 

Sunoo felt his breath hitch.It wasn’t admiration. He knew it. 

It wasn’t the kind of happiness one felt for a friend.

It was something else. Something terrifying.

Sunoo’s stomach lurched, and before he even realized what he was doing, he was standing. His pulse pounded in his ears as he maneuvered through the wet drops on his face. He dashed out of Sunghoon’s bathroom and slammed the front door shut behind him before continuing the sprint to his own room. The moment he stepped into the cool air–perfectly set so that his instruments wouldn’t untune, he inhaled sharply, pressing a hand against his chest to steady himself.

This wasn’t happening.

It couldn’t be happening.

Sunghoon was his best friend—his closest friend alongside Jay. Sunghoon, who was popular, confident, talented. Sunghoon, who had never once shown interest in anything other than basketball and helping out at his father’s clinic. Sunghoon, who was practically untouchable in the eyes of everyone at school.

And then there was Sunoo—Sunoo, who had always been labeled the privileged city prodigy, the delicate boy with soft hands and polished manners. Sunoo, who already felt like he barely belonged in their world. This would only make things worse.

He squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing against the lump forming in his throat. This feeling—it was wrong. It had to be. He was just caught up in the excitement, overwhelmed by the energy of the new warmth spring. That was all.

Except, no matter how many times he repeated it to himself, it didn’t erase the way his heart had reacted to Sunghoon’s smile. To the stare he saw the boy give him as he saw the shimmer in his eyes. 

SH.

something had been off for days.

At first, he thought he was imagining it. Sunoo had always been a little withdrawn—he was shy when he wanted to be, guarded in ways that only those closest to him could tell. But this was different.

He wasn’t just reserved; he was avoiding them.

At lunch, he would disappear to the farthest table he could find. In the hallways, his eyes would dart to the floor as if pretending not to see them. Even after school, when they would normally walk home together, Sunoo made excuses, claiming he had assignments to finish or that he needed to practice piano.

Jay was the first to crack.

"Alright, spill," Jay demanded, slamming his tray down onto the table where Sunoo sat alone.

Sunghoon slid into the seat beside Jay, watching Sunoo stiffen.

Jay was right. He was acting weird.

"You’ve been avoiding us," Jay accused.

Sunoo’s lips parted slightly before pressing into a thin line. "I’ve been busy."

"With what?"

"Music."

Jay scoffed. "That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard some pretty bad ones from Sunghoon."

"Hey," Sunghoon muttered. He wasn't even going to argue it.

His eyes flickered to Sunoo’s face, scanning for any sign of what was going on. The slight downturn of his lips, the tight grip on his tray, the way his gaze darted anywhere but at them—he was closing himself off.

Sunghoon didn’t like it.

"Jay’s right," he said. "You’ve been weird."

"I haven’t," Sunoo shot back, but there was no weight behind it.

Sunghoon arched a brow. "Really? Then why do you look like you’re about to bolt every time I sit next to you?"

There. That reaction. Sunoo’s fingers twitched, his jaw clenching ever so slightly. He was hiding something.

"I don’t."

"You do," Jay confirmed.

"Seriously, what’s going on?"

Sunghoon saw it—the hesitation, the way Sunoo’s throat bobbed like he was struggling to swallow his words.

And then, finally, a crack in his armor.

"I just feel… off."

Sunghoon’s brows furrowed. Off?

Jay leaned forward. "Off how?"

Sunoo shook his head. "I just—I feel like I don’t belong. Like I’m just here because you guys let me be, not because I actually fit in."

Sunghoon felt something in his chest tighten.

That was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard.

"That’s stupid," he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Sunoo flinched slightly. "What?"

"You’re being stupid," Sunghoon repeated, his frustration bubbling up. "You think we’re just pitying you or something?"

"I—"

"That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard," Sunghoon said, his voice firmer now. "We’re best friends, Sunoo. You belong with us because we want you with us. Not because we’re ‘letting’ you."

Sunoo’s eyes flickered downward, his grip on his tray loosening.

Why is he thinking like this? Sunghoon thought. Why is he pushing us away?

"Whatever it is, we’re here," he said, his tone softer this time. "Always."

But Sunoo didn’t answer.

Instead, he stood up abruptly, grabbing his tray. "I have to go."

Sunghoon’s jaw tightened.

"Sunoo—"

"I’ll see you later."

He didn’t turn back.

Sunghoon and Jay exchanged a look.

"What the hell was that?" Jay muttered.

Sunghoon exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. "I don’t know. But we’re not letting this go."

—

Later that night, Sunghoon found himself standing outside Sunoo’s apartment door with Jay beside him.

"You think he’s gonna let us in?" Jay asked.

"No," Sunghoon said. "So don’t give him a choice."

When Sunoo finally opened the door, he looked half-expecting them, yet completely unprepared.

"You’re not getting rid of us that easily," Jay said, pushing past him and plopping onto the bed.

Sunghoon followed, arms crossed. "You’re acting weird. We’re not leaving until you talk to us."

Sunoo sighed, rubbing his temples. "Why do you care so much?"

Sunghoon stared at him. " Why do we care? "

Did Sunoo really not get it?

"Because you’re our best friend," Jay said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Sunghoon nodded. "And best friends don’t let each other suffer alone."

Sunoo hesitated. Sunghoon could see it—how he wanted to say something but couldn’t .

He didn’t know what it was, but it made his chest ache.

Finally, Sunoo let out a breath and sat down beside them. "I’m sorry," he murmured. "For being distant."

Jay waved him off. "Just don’t do it again."

Sunghoon nudged him lightly. "Whatever it is, we’re here. Always."

And for the first time in days, Sunoo smiled.

It was small, hesitant—but it was real.

Sunghoon still didn’t know what had caused all of this, what had made Sunoo suddenly question his place beside them.

But he did know one thing.

Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to let Sunoo carry it alone.

Chapter Text

The years passed like pages in a book, flipping too fast for Sunoo to process. They were older now, standing on the precipice of their final years in high school. The once overwhelming crush he had on Sunghoon still lingered, tucked away neatly in the corners of his mind where no one could find it. It wasn’t painful anymore—just something that existed, like a song he had heard a long time ago but never quite forgot the melody to as his heart played the tune itself. He knew now that it was unrequited, and that was okay. Sunghoon had always seen him as a best friend, nothing more. And Sunoo had made peace with that.

Despite the looming pressure of exams and the uncertain future that came with, there was something grounding about the mundane moments he shared with Jay and Sunghoon. Early mornings spent half-asleep at the bus stop, Jay complaining about the lack of decent breakfast options while Sunghoon silently sipped his coffee. School days where Sunoo had found himself a small group of girls to hang out with amidst classes and orchestra after classes. Afternoons where they would loiter in convenience stores, pretending they were debating snack choices when, in reality, they just wanted to waste time together. In the evenings, they would take Gaeul for walks throughout their neighborhood, sharing stories and drama throughout the school. There were weekends where Sunoo and Jay accompanied Sunghoon and Mr. Park to his clinic and kept patient satisfaction scores up– technically its still practice he would tell his father as he packed up his violin. Even the quiet study sessions, where exhaustion melted away their usual banter, held a certain kind of comfort. These small things—their routines, their effortless companionship—felt like constants in a world that refused to stop moving. Sunoo didn’t like the moving world, when he would lay down at night he would swear he could feel the spin on the axis rocking himself to sleep. 

Except his thoughts never stopped, replaying songs in his mind, mindlessly strumming his fingers on his sheets plucking at the strings within his thoughts. His imagination would start off as clouds of moments of him performing infront of thousands, creating music for the world to hear, starring into crowds that see him and appreciate him. He would look out onto the crowd and see Jay and Sunghoon, after picking up his roses that were thrown on stage he would run off towards them, being engulfed in a hug by his friends. He looked to Jay who spoke “You did great sunny.” with all his teeth showing. He would turn to Sunghoon then, expecting praise and met with glistening eyes, and suddenly he’s not at the concert anymore but the hill by the basketball courts, and Sunghoon is looking down on him. Bringing his body closer… holding onto his hips as the older’s long fingers graze his chin pulling it up and smirking down on him before —

And he jolts awake. Sitting up and drinking the water that sat on his nightstand. Quenching his throat, hoping the cold cleanses his mind. 

—

The three of them—Sunoo, Sunghoon, and Jay—were drowning in the stress of midyear exams. The school library had practically become their second home, their weekends and evenings spent hunched over textbooks and notes covered in frantic handwriting. Even Jay, who usually brushed things off with an easygoing attitude, had dark circles under his eyes. Sunoo was completely exhausted to the point where his pure centered optimistic ways was beginning to fulter. Between practice, school, after school classes, academy after that, practice, and homework when he gets home, he has no room to think for himself. He only ever sees Jay and Sunghoon at school, none of them have time to even send a text message. 

“I swear, if I have to memorize one more formula, I’m going to jump out that window,” Jay groaned, dramatically throwing his head onto the table.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, flicking Jay’s forehead with his pen. “We’re on the first floor. You’d just land in the bushes.”

“Then I’ll make sure I aim for the pavement,” Jay muttered rubbing the red mark the tip of the pen just made.

Sunoo stifled a laugh, flipping through his own notes. His head hurt from the constant studying, but there was a strange comfort in being surrounded by his friends, even in shared misery.

“Sunoo, you good?” Sunghoon asked, glancing over at him.

Sunoo looked up at the older’s concerned dark eyes, nodding. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

Sunghoon hummed, eyes scanning his face before he tossed a wrapped candy at him. “Sugar helps. Eat.”

It was such a small, simple act, but it made Sunoo’s heart stutter nonetheless. It was a small strawberry hard candy that Sunoo would always try to grab a bag of on their trips to the convenience store. Jay always chose savory chips with a cola, and sunghoon choosing banana milk and a protein bar.  He swallowed the feeling down, as he always did, and used the sweet strawberry melt as a chaser. 

That evening, after another grueling study session, Sunoo and Sunghoon left the library together. Jay had gone home early, mumbling something about needing to regain his sanity before he lost it completely. One would think that being within the presence of your close friend who you have a crush on would be awkward, but Sunghoon never made him feel that way. At least, not anymore, what drew Sunoo around him was his warmth, his care, and his enticing relativity. Like Sunoo was destined to be a planet drawn to his gravity. Sunoo told himself it was just a crush, he had to develop one at some point in growing up, but deep down he was scared of how far that word could be stretched before it would cross the line into something else. 

The air was crisp, the sky a deep indigo that stained Sunoo’s eyes as his brain cursed for leaving his camera at home, and as they stepped outside, a single snowflake drifted down landing a soft kiss on the younger’s eyelashes.

Sunoo paused, tilting his head up just as another flake landed on his cheek.

“The first snow…” he murmured.

Sunghoon followed his gaze, watching the snowflakes dance in the air before catching one in his palm. “Didn’t realize it was that time of year already.”

Sunoo let out a small laugh, breath visible in the cold air. “It’s pretty.”

Sunghoon turned his head, watching Sunoo instead of the snow. “Yeah,” he said softly. “It is.”

Sunoo’s breath caught. He looked at Sunghoon, really looked at him—the sharp cut of his jawline, the way his long lashes caught the dim light. The moles that used to be so close together but grew farther apart as Sunghoon grew into his body.  Sunoo always wondered if he got them from his mom, though Sunoo never met the woman he liked to believe Sunghoon resembles her in a lot of ways; and that’s not in vain of Mr. Park, that man was a walking teddy bear, gentle with the wind. The softness in his usually serious eyes. It was a moment pulled straight from a drama, the kind of scene he would have swooned over if it were anyone else.

But this wasn’t a drama. This was real life, and in real life, Sunghoon didn’t see him that way.

Sunghoon suddenly reached out, brushing a stray snowflake from Sunoo’s hair. “You always get caught up in little things like this,” he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips. “First snow, cherry blossoms, the way light reflects off the river.”

Sunoo swallowed. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” Sunghoon said, shaking his head. “I think it’s what makes you, you.”

Something in Sunoo’s chest ached at those words. Sunghoon always said things like that so easily, like he didn’t know the effect they had. Like he didn’t realize how much Sunoo wished things were different.

Sunoo exhaled, watching his breath curl into the cold air. “You know,” he started softly, “there are things that make you, you, too.”

Sunghoon turned to him, eyebrows slightly raised. “Yeah?”

Sunoo nodded. “Like how you always tie and untie your shoelaces when you’re nervous, even when they’re already perfectly fine.” He hesitated, then smiled faintly. “How you never eat the last bite of your food because you say it’s the ‘best part,’ but then you just leave it.”

Sunghoon let out a quiet chuckle. “That’s just me being weird.”

“No,” Sunoo insisted, shaking his head. “It’s you.” His voice grew softer, more thoughtful. “Like the way you get this serious look when you’re focused, but the second someone calls your name, your expression completely changes. Oh! Or how you always say you hate cliches, but you secretly love those movies me and Jay stay up watching, you claim you always fall asleep but you are always the last one to close your eyes whenever we all sleep together because you go through the house and make sure everything is locked. And then you always give Jay an extra blanket because you know Grandma Park’s crocheted ones aren’t the best for warmth, and you always make sure to have an alarm set for me to leave earlier to practice..” His fingers curled into the sleeves of his jacket. “And the way you always notice when someone’s feeling off, even when they don’t say anything. You’re like one of those knights in the video games you and Jay always play.”

Sunghoon’s smile faltered slightly, his gaze searching Sunoo’s face. “I guess… I never thought about it like that.”

Sunoo shrugged, forcing himself to look away before his heart betrayed him. “Well, I do. You and Jay are my brothers, you’re like my knight.”

They stood there for a moment, the snow falling softly around them, blanketing the world in quiet. Sunoo knew he should step back, create distance before he let himself feel too much. But for now, just for this fleeting second, he let himself stay.

Sunoo exhaled slowly, looking away before he said something he couldn’t take back, or before the pink on his cheeks engulfed his whole being–whichever came first. “We should get going.”

Sunghoon nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets as they continued walking. The snow fell heavier now, blanketing the world in white. It was beautiful, almost magical, and for a fleeting second, Sunoo allowed himself to imagine what it would be like if things were different. If he could tell Sunghoon the truth. If he didn’t have to hide this part of himself.

But reality always had a way of pulling him back.

When he got home, the warmth of the apartment did little to soothe the cold that settled in his chest. His father was sitting at the table, papers spread out in front of him. His mother was in the kitchen adjacent looking diligently at the food she was making, her eyebrows frowned and lips turned downward at the tips. At first, Sunoo thought it was just work, but then his father looked up, expression unreadable.

“We’re moving.” he said, voice clipped, final.

Sunoo blinked. “What?”

His father exhaled, as if he didn’t have the energy to explain. “I got an offer for partnership in the Phillipines. We leave in two weeks.”

The words echoed in Sunoo’s ears, and suddenly, the warmth of the evening, the laughter with Sunghoon, the soft flutter of the first snow—it all felt like a cruel trick.

Two weeks. That was all the time he had left. Two weeks before he had to leave everything behind. His school. His home.

His best friends.

His heart clenched, but he forced himself to nod. “Okay.”

Because what else could he say?

He walked slowly towards his room, not having the reality hit yet. Whether it was his subconscious protecting him from thrashing into a wave of emotions, or if it was his exhaustion not allowing him to feel anything but tired; he plopped himself into his chair on his desk looking out on the playground. Outside, the snow kept falling.

—

The gymnasium was electric with energy, the roar of the crowd swelling with every basket Jay and Sunghoon made. Their team was on fire, dominating the semi-finals, and Sunoo sat in the stands, clutching his hoodie as he watched them move like they were made for this—Jay, quick and cunning, weaving through defenders with ease, and Sunghoon, sharp and precise, every shot he took falling through the net like it was inevitable. When the final buzzer blared, sealing their victory, the entire school erupted into cheers, students pouring onto the court to celebrate. Sunoo grinned, clapping wildly as Jay threw an arm around Sunghoon’s shoulder, both of them grinning like they had just won the championship itself. Sunoo could’ve cried with pride right then and there, looking upon them as they shone their brightest. That night, the victory celebrations spilled into the streets, leading to an afterparty at some senior’s house. Sunoo wasn’t usually one for these things, but Jay had slung an arm around him and declared, “You’re coming. No excuses.” And who was Sunoo to say no to them in this state? He even knew a couple other classmates who were going so he wouldn’t be alone. 

At the party, Sunghoon and Jay had taken on different personalities than he’s ever seen them—no longer just his best friends, but teenage boys caught up in the thrill of their win, drinking recklessly, laughing too loudly, surrounded by people who adored them. Sunghoon, who was always composed and careful, was flushed from the alcohol, his usually sharp eyes hazy with amusement. Jay, ever the life of the party, was at the center of a drinking game, his charisma amplified under the dim glow of the room. They were idiots, but his idiots that he would have to walk home and sneak past Jay’s grandmother to save them from her wrath. Sunoo lingered at the edge, feeling more like an observer than a participant. He was happy for them, truly, but something about it felt foreign, like he was witnessing a version of them he wasn’t meant to see. He wasn’t against their fun, he just wasn’t the drinking type. He knew he wouldn’t have gotten away with it– his father would have somehow found out and punished him; and even in their drunken state the duo would probably lecture him too. So he stuck to his normal cola, grazing the scene looking for Wonyoung and the other girls. 

Then the jeers started. A group of boys, upperclassmen he barely recognized, cornered him near the hallway, their voices thick with mockery. “Didn’t think this was your scene, pretty boy,” one sneered. “Looking for the girls to come and paint your nails?” Another snickered, bumping Sunoo’s shoulder hard enough to make him stumble, the cola spilling onto his white polo top. The words stung, but Sunoo wasn’t the timid kid he once was. Maybe it was the atmosphere, seeing his best friends so confident and loud gave him the strength. Or maybe it was because he knew these boys were blackout wasted and wouldn’t even remember what he was about to do.  Straightening, he met their eyes and shot back, “At least I don’t need to win a game to feel good about myself.” His voice was steady, unwavering, and for the first time in a long while, he felt something close to pride.

Wanting to share the moment, he turned to look for Jay and Sunghoon, only for his stomach to drop. His intestines twisted over like a hernia was forming, as he watched Wonyoung pull Sunghoon through the crowd, her smile bright, effortless—like she already knew she would have him. And maybe she did. Maybe she always had. Sunghoon wasn’t pulling away, wasn’t hesitating, just following, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And why wouldn’t he? Wonyoung was beautiful, confident, someone who fit into his world so seamlessly it almost felt scripted. Maybe Sunoo did live in a drama he always watched, just he was a side character in someone else’s romcom. They were the kind of pairing people expected, the kind that made sense.

Sunoo told himself he should be happy for him.. He deserved someone who wasn’t busy hiding parts of themselves, someone who wasn’t constantly suppressing the way their chest ached every time their best friend smiled at them. Sunoo should have been happy. 

But he wasn’t.

The thought alone made his throat tighten, shame curling around his ribs like a vice. He turned away before he could see more, before he could see Sunghoon lean in and murmur something into Wonyoung’s ear, before he could see him laugh at something she said, before he could see everything he was too afraid to lose slipping away in real-time. His vision blurred at the edges as he pushed through the crowd, barely hearing the music pounding through the speakers. His breath felt short, too shallow, and the walls of the house suddenly felt too close.

Somehow, he found his way into the bathroom, his legs feeling like wading through a pool, locking the door behind him before pressing his palms against the sink. His reflection stared back at him, eyes wide, lips slightly parted as he struggled to take in a full breath. His face was as pale as ice, and he wished he knew how to put on makeup to give himself color. His chest felt tight, his heartbeat too fast, each inhale shaky and uneven. This was stupid. He was being stupid.

But no matter how much he tried to rationalize it, the feeling wouldn’t go away. It wasn’t just jealousy—it was grief. Grief for something he had never even had, something he had never even let himself hope for. He had spent so many years pushing his feelings down, telling himself it didn’t matter, that Sunghoon would never see him that way, and that it was okay. But standing there, watching him leave with Wonyoung so easily, so effortlessly—it made Sunoo realize that even after all these years, a small part of him had still been hoping. Hoping that it was that easy for him to whisk the older away, easy for him to be able to pull him down for a whisper, easy for him to even tell him what he didn’t even dare to form the words of outloud. He never told anyone, how could he? Even in the city he doesn’t think anything would change, he was just an outlier, someone born to be different and struggle. 

His breath hitched as he squeezed his eyes shut, gripping the edge of the sink so tightly his knuckles turned white. Breathe. He just had to breathe. In, out. In, out. It wasn’t working. He pressed a trembling hand to his chest, as if that would stop the way it hurt, as if he could physically push the feeling back down where it belonged.

It didn’t belong here.

He didn’t belong here.

He wish he never came. 

His knees felt weak, his body too light and too heavy at the same time. He just needed a second. Just one second to pull himself together before he walked out that door and pretended like none of this had ever happened.

Sunoo fumbled for his phone with trembling hands, barely able to see the screen through the blur of unshed tears. He scrolled past countless names until he found the one he always turned to when things became unbearable.

Jungwon.

He pressed call and brought the phone to his ear, his breath still coming in short, uneven gasps. The ringing felt endless, the seconds stretching unbearably long—until finally, a familiar voice answered.

“Sunoo?” Jungwon sounded tired, like he had just woken up, but the second he heard Sunoo’s shaky breathing, his tone sharpened with concern. “Hey. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Sunoo opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out. Instead, a choked sob escaped before he could stop it, his shoulders trembling as the floodgates broke open.

“Sunoo,” Jungwon’s voice softened instantly, no trace of annoyance or impatience. “Breathe, okay? Just breathe for me.”

But Sunoo couldn’t. He pressed a fist to his mouth, trying to quiet himself, but the tears kept coming, his whole body shaking as the weight of everything crushed him all at once. It was humiliating, breaking down like this, but he couldn’t stop.

“Is it Sunghoon?” Jungwon asked quietly, like he already knew the answer.

Sunoo let out another shaky sob, scared that it was so obvious for him to know. How could he know? How could he let himself slip that even his family knew? Squeezing his eyes shut as he slid down against the bathroom door. That was all the confirmation Jungwon needed.

There was silence for a moment, just the sound of Sunoo trying and failing to pull himself together. Then, Jungwon spoke again, his voice steady and grounding.

“Listen to me, I’m not judging you, I have no room to judge you,” he said. “You’re going to be okay.”

“I—” Sunoo hiccupped, pressing a hand to his chest. “I feel like—I feel like I can’t breathe.”

“You can,” Jungwon assured him. “Just follow my voice, alright? In for four, hold for four, out for four. Let’s do it together.”

Sunoo tried, clenching his jaw as he forced himself to listen. 

“One… 

Two…

Three…

Four…”

He pressed his lips together. Feeling the weight of his breath ripping and clawing at his ribs like its a prisoner trying to breakout. 

“One…

Two…

Three…

Four…”

Opening his mouth and letting a pained aching whimper out he reinflated his lungs.

“Again.”

He did it again. And again. And again, Until the air finally reached his lungs without feeling like a kicked puppy in the rain, until the panic slowly ebbed into exhaustion, leaving him drained and hollow.

“Good,” Jungwon murmured. “You’re okay. I’m right here.”

Sunoo wiped at his face, sniffling. “I hate this.” His voice was raw, broken. “I hate feeling like this. I should be happy for him.”

“It’s okay to feel this way,” Jungwon said firmly. “You don’t have to force yourself to be okay just because you think you should be. You care about him, Sunoo. That’s not something you can just turn off.”

Sunoo let out a shaky breath, tilting his head back against the door. “It hurts.”

“I know,” Jungwon whispered. 

Sunoo pledged that that night should’ve been his wakeup call, it should’ve suffocated and lit all the butterflies aflame and let them simmer and die. It should’ve. 

He left the party that night, walking home with Jungwon on the phone back to the playground by his apartment building. He sat on the swings, listening to Jungwon talk about orchestra academy drama like the old days, his mind blank. Jungwon knew Sunoo wasn’t listening, but he also wasn’t crying, so Jungwon believed he was doing a great job. 

The night grew darker, Sunoo seized his swinging and had just been mindlessly sitting. Him and Jungwon were both conversant now, his skin not crawling on fire anymore. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jungwon whispered, afraid of adding gasoline to the ambers. 

“I’ve never said it.” 

“You don’t have to,” Jungwon spoke freely, “AND. Not in that it’s obvious, I just know you too well. I one-hundered percent believe no one else knows. But I’ve seen it, I noticed last summer when I came and stayed with you for that music camp? You treat the two of them the same, but with him you’re different ” 

“Do you think I’m weird?” Sunoo spoke out.

“No, do you think I’m weird?”  

“Why would I think you are weird?” 

“Because I’m gay.” 

And suddenly hearing the word made something in Sunoo burn alive. Oiling down that truth he’s never wanted to water the seed of thought of. In the former years of this growing crush he thought he could just label it as that, he has a crush on Sunghoon, nothing deeper than that. But Jungwon put it out there so openly, accepted it so much better than him. 

At least he wasn’t alone. 

Sunoo heard bush rustling and his burning body froze cold, what if someone heard him? Heard Jungwon? 

“Hoonnnnnnnnnnnn.” A melody of drucken syllables formed together and Sunoo knew who’s deep voice it belonged to. 

Jay and Sunghoon were walking home, Sunoo looked at his watch 3:09. 

He has been talking to Jungwon for four hours, Sunghoon left with Wonyoung four hours ago. But now he’s returning with… Jay? 

“Sunny…. Probably walked…. By himself…. With his little little legs…” Jay giggled to himself, Sunoo walked closer to the pair of boys, recking of alcohol even twenty feet away. 

“He would never walk home by himself, he would’ve told one of us.” Sunghoon spoke like he was perfectly sober, though walking in a diagonal line. 

Sunoo held his phone with Jungwon on to his chest and strode forward, “I didn’t want to ruin your fun.” 

“Sunoo what are you do-” Jungwon spoke before he double clicked the side and ended the call. 

Jay’s head shot up, “SUNNYYYYYYY” He shouted with joy, probably waking up the Lee’s who lived on the first floor. He launched himself out of Sunghoon’s arms and threw himself to Sunoo. 

“Hi Hyung,” the younger couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of the boy infront of him, Jay was just so silly when he drank, his chic charisma leaving him while his cuteness stayed. 

“You know Grandma is going to kill you and me if she sees you like this,” Sunoo struggled to hold him up, 

“She would never kill you Noo, she trusts you with me too much.” 

“Let’s get inside before Jay isn’t the  only  one murdered. Sunoo what are you doing up, why didn’t you tell us you were leaving? Do you know how worried we got?” 

“Didn’t seem worried to me, you seemed perfectly happy in Wonyoung’s arms.” 

“What?” 

“Sorry I didn’t break up your seven minutes in heaven to tell you I was going home to call Jungwon, didn’t want to see my friend with her hands down your pants.” 

Sunoo saw the hurt wash on Sunghoon’s face, his flushed cheeked wiped away as a ghost stole his color. He knew it wasn’t the right thing to say, he knew he was displacing his anger, but he just couldn’t stop but blame the older boy. Blame him for making him feel this way, blame him for keeping him up all night wondering why it had to be this way. Blame him for not noticing, for not realizing that Sunoo was breaking right in front of him.

Sunghoon’s brows furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. “That’s not fair and it’s not right,” he said, his voice quieter now, but firm.

“Isn’t it?” Sunoo let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Forget it. Just get Jay inside before he passes out on the pavement.”

Sunghoon didn’t move, staring at Sunoo like he was trying to piece something together, but Sunoo couldn’t bear to stand there any longer. His heart was still raw, his chest aching in a way that made him feel like he was coming apart at the seams.

“Goodnight, Sunghoon.” The words felt final, like they carried a weight heavier than just the end of a conversation. Without waiting for a response, Sunoo turned on his heel and walked away, feeling Sunghoon’s gaze linger on his back.

Jay, oblivious to the tension, just hummed happily as he stumbled into the apartment complex, leaving Sunghoon standing alone in the night, staring after the one person who had never walked away from him before.

The days after the party passed in a strange, disjointed haze. The winter air bit harder, but Sunghoon barely felt it. His mind was too tangled, replaying that night in loops that didn’t make sense, trying to piece together why Sunoo had looked at him like that—like he hated him, like he was hurt. But he wouldn’t say why.

Sunoo barely spoke to him. He was still there, in all the places he should be—at school, in the gym watching practice, in the lunchroom laughing at Jay’s dumb jokes—but he wasn’t really there. Something had shifted, and Sunghoon couldn’t reach him. Every attempt to bridge the gap was met with a tight smile and an excuse.

It gnawed at him in a way he didn’t understand, frustration bleeding into panic. Sunoo wasn’t supposed to be distant. Sunoo was always there, always chattering, always in his space like he belonged there. The absence of that familiarity unsettled Sunghoon in a way he didn’t want to examine too closely.

And then, the real blow came.

Sunghoon and Jay were sitting in the nosebleed seats of the school auditorium watching the winter concert of the orchestra. Sunoo was sitting on his chair in the center of the stage with a fitted suit on and his hair gelled to the side. His face looked drained, even from far away Sunghoon noticed how deep the circles under his eyes pitted, how there was no color on his cheeks. He wonders what the younger boy would look like with makeup on as he performed, how much more comfortable he would be as he sat on stage. If Sunghoon was being honest with himself, he never understood why the younger enjoyed it so much, he would never willingly choose to slap his face with dirty materials or stain his lips. Sunoo rarely put on makeup after that one afternoon at the courts, but there were weekends the boys would go outside of town to the neighboring city’s mall or arcade and Sunghoon would noticed the extra shine on the younger’s cheeks. 

Sunoo was performing Vaughan William’s The Lark Ascending , Sunghoon had no idea the significance of that but he read it in the pamphlet given to him at the doors. What Sunghoon did know though, is that the young boy was a marvel with his instruments. No matter how many times him and Jay have seen the kid perform, it left him feeling the emotions of the wordless chords. Sunoo had this way of presenting himself when it came to his arts that made him equal to a god, like no one could touch him at his form. 

“Sunoo’s going to be living it up in Manila with this type of talent. He better invite us to his world tours.” Jay chirped as he stood up with the rest of the audience to clap after Sunoo drew out his last note with his bow. 

Something in Sunghoon’s brain stuttered. “What?”

Jay barely looked up. “Yeah, he’s moving in like, two weeks. Didn’t he tell you?”

Sunghoon didn’t hear anything else Jay said. The blood in his ears roared too loudly, drowning out the world.

Two weeks.

Two weeks, and Sunoo would be gone. Just like that.

He felt like the floor had been ripped out from under him. Like he was falling, but there was no ground waiting to catch him.

It was happening again.

The memories hit him like a punch to the gut. His mother’s face, blurred with time but still painfully vivid in his heart. The sound of her voice, the warmth of her arms, the way she had smiled at him even when she was too weak to sit up. And then, just like that, she was gone. One day she was tucking him into bed, humming softly under her breath, and the next, he was staring at her portrait as friends and family gave him and his father condolences. No warning. No preparation. Just an abrupt, cruel rewrite of his reality.

He had learned to cope by controlling the things he could. Little routines. Little rituals. He made his bed the same way every morning, tucked the corners just right. Ate the same breakfast before school, walked the same path home. Practiced free throws until the motion was ingrained in his body like muscle memory. Memorized every single medical term his father had used in him presence so that he wouldn’t feel stupid when walked into the clinic. Predictability kept his world from slipping through his fingers.

And then Sunoo happened.

Sunoo, who slipped so easily into the cracks of his life, making himself at home before Sunghoon even realized it was happening. Sunoo, who threw off his perfectly structured routine with his spontaneous plans, his last-minute ideas, his way of pulling Sunghoon into things he swore he wouldn’t do. And somehow, instead of hating it, Sunghoon had adapted. He had adjusted his world to fit Sunoo into it. Made space for him in the rigid framework of his life, let him carve out a permanent place without question. He changed things for him.

And now he was expected to adapt again.

To the absence.

To an empty space where Sunoo used to be.

His stomach twisted at the thought. His heart beat too fast, an erratic rhythm that didn’t match the steady order he relied on. Sunoo had become part of his routine, part of the way he navigated the world, and the idea of waking up in two weeks and knowing Sunoo wasn’t there made his skin itch. His mind spiraled, searching for something to latch onto, something to stabilize the impending sense of loss, but there was nothing.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair that he had to rebuild himself again. That he had to wake up every morning and remind himself that someone else he loved was gone. His mother had been taken from him—ripped away by something out of his control—but Sunoo was choosing to leave. That thought burned.

Sunghoon clenched his jaw, fists balling at his sides. He hated feeling like this. Hated the helplessness, the resentment curling in his gut like a living thing. He should be happy for Sunoo. Should be proud of him for chasing bigger things. But all he could think about was the empty space he was going to leave behind.

Change was unpredictable, messy. It forced him to adapt, to shift, to let go of things he wasn't ready to lose. And every time change entered his life, it took something from him.

Sunghoon didn’t remember leaving the auditorium. One moment he was standing with the crowd, the thunder of applause vibrating through his chest, and the next, he was shoving past people, his feet moving faster than his thoughts.

Him and Jay found Sunoo backstage, still in his suit, his violin case clutched in one hand as he spoke to a group of teachers and students. His face was carefully composed, but Sunghoon could see it—the exhaustion in the way his shoulders sagged, the way his fingers trembled slightly when he adjusted his grip on his case.

Sunoo must have sensed him approaching, because his gaze flickered over, and for a split second, something flashed across his face—guilt, maybe. Or resignation.

Sunghoon didn’t give him a chance to react to Jay handing him a bouquet of flowers. He grabbed Sunoo’s wrist and pulled him out of the hallway, ignoring the startled protests from the people around them.

“What the hell, Sunghoon—”

Sunghoon didn’t stop until they were outside, where the cold winter air bit into his skin. Only then did he let go, turning to face Sunoo, who was glaring at him, rubbing his wrist.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sunoo snapped. “You can’t just drag me around like—”

“When were you going to tell me?”

The words came out sharp, cutting through the space between them. Sunoo froze.

Sunghoon swallowed, his heart pounding so loudly it hurt. “Two weeks, Sunoo. That’s all I get? Two weeks before you disappear?”

Sunoo looked away, his jaw tightening. “Jay wasn’t supposed to say anything yet.”

“That’s what you care about?” Sunghoon let out a hollow laugh, his chest aching. “Not the fact that you’re just—leaving?”

“Sunghoon—”

“No. Don’t. Just answer me.” His voice wavered, but he didn’t care. “Were you ever going to tell me? Or were you just going to vanish like—” His breath hitched. Like his mother.

Sunoo flinched. “That’s not fair.”

Sunghoon barked out a bitter laugh. “Fair? Fair is giving me time to process this. Fair is not making me feel like an idiot for thinking you were always going to be here.”

Sunoo exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know how to tell you, okay?” His voice was quieter now, but no less tense. “I knew you’d react like this.”

“Like what?” Sunghoon demanded. “Like I actually give a damn? Because I do, Sunoo. And I—I don’t know how to do this.” He gestured between them, his hands shaking. “I don’t know how to wake up in two weeks and just not have you here.”

Sunoo’s expression softened, but it only made Sunghoon’s stomach twist harder. Because it looked too much like pity. Like an apology that had already been decided.

“Sunghoon,” he started, voice soft.

Sunghoon shook his head. “I can’t—” He exhaled shakily, turning on his heel. “I can’t do this right now.”

And before Sunoo could say anything else, he walked away. Because if he stayed, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to hold himself together.

—

The next two weeks passed in a blur, stretched thin between the moments that felt normal and the ones that made Sunghoon’s stomach sink.

The trio still spent time together—because that’s what they always did. If anything, Jay worked overtime to make sure of it, planning outings with forced enthusiasm, cracking jokes that landed a little too flat. But even he wasn’t oblivious to the way things had changed.

The air between Sunghoon and Sunoo was thick with everything unsaid. They weren’t fighting, not really, but there was something fraying at the edges of their friendship, something raw and unresolved that neither of them was willing to touch.

At the arcade, Sunghoon watched as Sunoo played through every level of a rhythm game with mechanical precision, his expression unreadable. He clapped when Jay whooped and congratulated him, but his voice was hollow, his mind elsewhere.

At lunch, Sunghoon sat across from Sunoo like always, but their conversations were clipped, careful. Sunghoon hated it. Hated how Sunoo still laughed at Jay’s antics but only smiled tightly when their eyes met. Hated how he still talked about mundane things, like homework and basketball games, as if nothing was changing. As if he wasn’t leaving in a matter of days.

Sunghoon tried to act like it didn’t bother him. That he wasn’t still reeling from the way Sunoo had hesitated when he’d asked if he would have stayed.

But at night, when he was lying awake staring at the ceiling, his mind played the same thought over and over.

This isn’t fair.

They stopped by Sunoo’s house one afternoon, the way they always did, and Sunghoon noticed the empty spaces on his shelves. The books that used to be stacked messily on his desk were gone. The Polaroids and little knick-knacks that usually cluttered his nightstand had disappeared, save for a single framed picture of the three of them at the summer festival two years ago.

Sunghoon didn’t ask about it. He didn’t have to.

Sunoo acted like nothing had changed, tossing his bag onto his bare mattress and rifling through it for his phone. But Sunghoon’s eyes lingered on the open suitcase by his closet, half-packed with neatly folded clothes. On the wardrobe doors left slightly ajar, revealing empty hangers where his hoodies used to be.

Something about it made his stomach churn.

Jay didn’t seem to notice, stretching out on Sunoo’s bed with a dramatic sigh. “Man, I’m beat. I can’t believe you made me walk all the way here, Sunoo.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Sunoo teased, rolling his eyes. “It’s a ten-minute walk.”

“Ten minutes too long,” Jay groaned, burying his face in a pillow. “You better get rich and famous fast so you can drive us around in some fancy car.”

Sunoo laughed, but Sunghoon didn’t miss the way his fingers twitched where they rested against his bag strap. A brief pause, barely noticeable, but Sunghoon caught it anyway.

He wondered if Sunoo was struggling with this too. If his heart ached when he thought about leaving. If he felt like the ground was shifting beneath him the same way Sunghoon did every time he walked into a room and saw another piece of Sunoo’s life missing.

It was in the little things—the way Sunoo had started hesitating before making plans, like he wasn’t sure if he should. The way his closet gradually emptied, favorite jackets disappearing one by one. The way he had started carrying his violin case more often, his fingers gripping the handle a little too tightly.

Even the arcade visits felt different now. Sunoo still played the rhythm games, still beat their high scores with infuriating ease, but he didn’t linger afterward. He didn’t joke about coming back next week to do it again.

Sunghoon hated it.

Hated how temporary everything felt. How every moment with Sunoo was now tinged with an expiration date.

At lunch, Sunoo had started leaving certain snacks untouched. “No point buying more,” he had said casually, shrugging. “I won’t finish them in time.”

The words had sat in Sunghoon’s stomach like lead.

Now, in Sunoo’s half-empty room, Sunghoon found himself gripping the edge of the desk a little too tightly, grounding himself.

Jay was still rambling about something, filling the silence the way he always did, but Sunghoon wasn’t listening. His eyes were locked on Sunoo, on the way his expression flickered when he thought no one was looking.

Sunghoon knew he should say something. But what was there to say?

That he didn’t want Sunoo to go? That he wasn’t ready?

That he hated change, hated how it always stole things from him before he had the chance to hold on properly?

Sunoo had already packed most of his life into boxes. What good would it do now?

So he said nothing.

And the days continued to slip away.

Sunghoon had to turn away, jaw clenching hard enough to hurt.

That was how it had been for two weeks—reminders slipped into the smallest moments, Sunoo’s departure casting a shadow over everything. And the worst part was, Sunghoon didn’t know how to make it stop.

He couldn’t stop it.

Sunoo was leaving. And Sunghoon didn’t know how to brace himself for the inevitable.

—

Sunghoon woke up before his alarm.

He lay still, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the day press down on him. It was too quiet. Too still. Like the world was bracing itself for something irreversible.

He turned his head, eyes landing on his desk, where a neatly folded letter sat beside an envelope with Sunoo’s name written on it. He had written it the night before, unable to sleep, knowing there were things he needed to say but couldn’t trust himself to voice out loud.

His fingers itched to grab it, to read over the words again, but he knew it wouldn’t change anything. Instead, he swung his legs out of bed, got dressed in a daze, and left to meet Jay outside Sunoo’s house.

Jay was already there, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets, the weight of unspoken things hanging between them. Neither of them had been able to say the words yet— he’s leaving today.

“You ready for this?” Jay asked.

No. Not at all.

But Sunghoon just nodded.

Jay knocked on the door, and when Sunoo answered, his hair was a mess, his pajama shirt wrinkled from sleep. For a second, he just blinked at them, then sighed.

“You guys are ridiculous.”

Sunghoon almost laughed.

“Get dressed,” Jay said. “We have a plan.”

Sunoo rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. As he turned away, Sunghoon caught sight of his half-packed luggage in the hallway. Open suitcases, piles of clothes folded with meticulous care, books stacked neatly beside them. A few framed photos had been taken off the shelves, leaving empty spaces where they used to be.

A knot tightened in Sunghoon’s chest.

Sunoo was really leaving.

—

They went to their usual diner, sitting in their usual booth. They ordered their usual meals, but Sunghoon barely ate. He kept glancing at Sunoo, memorizing the way he moved, the way he talked, like if he looked hard enough, he could carve the moment into his brain and make it last longer.

Sunoo laughed at something Jay said, and for a second, everything felt normal. But then the check came, and they had to get up, and reality came creeping back in.

The trio walked to the playground next, their steps slower than usual. The place had been a backdrop to so many of their years—long summer nights, rushed games of tag before dinner, stupid dares that always ended with scraped knees and bruised pride. It wasn’t just a playground. It was theirs.

Sunoo beelined for the swings, like he always did. He sat down and nudged the swing next to him with his foot.

Sunghoon hesitated before sitting down. The chains were cold beneath his hands, the wind sharp against his skin. Jay plopped onto the ground nearby, leaning back on his elbows, watching the sky like it could give him answers.

For a while, none of them spoke. The creak of the swings filled the silence, the rhythmic back and forth of the moment stretching between them.

“You guys are acting weird,” Sunoo finally said, tilting his head. “It’s like I’m dying or something.”

Jay groaned. “Dude.”

Sunghoon’s grip tightened on the chains. “It kinda feels like it.”

Sunoo turned toward him, eyes softening.

“Sunghoon—”

But before he could say anything, Sunghoon’s phone buzzed.

His dad’s assistant.

His stomach dropped before he even answered.

The words blurred together in a mess of medical terms, but the message was clear—his dad was in the hospital. Emergency surgery. No time to wait.

Sunghoon barely registered mumbling something to Jay and Sunoo. His legs moved on instinct, carrying him away, mind spinning too fast to process anything except get to the hospital .

He walked into the medical center where he was thoughtless, mind following the signs that led him to the surgical waiting area. He saw Mrs. Kwon, an elderly woman who has been a veterinary assistant her whole life. After Sunghoon’s mother passed away, she was always bringing him and his father warm homecooked meals knowing they were still adjusting. She was always a supporter of Sunghoon’s choices, whether it was joining a basketball league, or when he wanted to try wearing glasses instead of contacts (he later hated this and wished she warned him that big bulky frames are not his forte). 

She engulfed him in a big hug wrapping his nostrils within her wooden vanilla perfume, calming his heart to slow down. 

“They said he’ll be okay, just his heart is a bit weak at the moment. They got him in time, he’ll be okay.” She caressed her freshly pink painted nails onto his skull. 

Sunghoon sat down on one of the lined chairs, his exhaustion and weight of his lungs catching up to him like they cursed him decades ago. His hands shook as he brought them up to his face and he leaned forward. 

Hours later doctors came out and told him and Mrs. Kwon where his father’s room would be, and the directions to there. He saw his father, asleep, hooked up to lines and machines that were frequently tempered with by nurses coming in and out. Sunghoon thinks about Jay’s Grandmother, how her kindness probably touched so many of her patients. 

Mrs. Kwon had somehow convinced Sunghoon to go home and shower, take a rest in his own bed, and gather clothes and supplies to come back up and stay at the hospital with. He walked home, the brisk cool of the night touching his nose, silence buzzing in his ears. 

—

He never made it back in time.

The sun had set, and Sunoo was already on a plane to Manila. His suitcase, his photos, his presence—all gone.

Sunghoon walked up to the complex, seeing Jay on the stairs, his eyes bloodshot and swollen from crying. He sat down next to him, feeling the increasingly old nostalgia of his youth creep into the silence. How it used to be– just them two. Sunghoon informed Jay of everything that occurred, how his father had a heart attack, how he’s out of surgery and recovering. 

Jay in turn told him everything, how Sunoo cried and bawled, how he looked like he was going to throw a tantrum like he used to. 

Sunghoon later walked a slow walk up to his apartment, the darkness engulfing him as he made his way to his room and fell onto the bed. As he was changing to get into a hot shower, he felt the letter he had written in his pocket. 

He had never given it to Sunoo.

And now, he never would.

SN.

Sunoo didn’t know what he had expected from his last day here. 

Maybe he had secretly hoped it would feel special, like the kind of goodbye people wrote about in books—bittersweet but meaningful. A way to make peace with the leaving before it actually happened.

Instead, the day had been like holding sand in his hands, watching it slip through his fingers no matter how tightly he tried to grasp it.

He walked into his kitchen where his mother was sat on a stool looking at a photobook. Sunoo smiled, knowing that she is where he got all his passions from. He hoped that meant he had more of her DNA, even though he’s intelligent enough to know that’s not how it works. He takes pride in taking after his mother, who sewed sweetness into his veins. He came up behind her to wrap his arms around her waist like he used to do to her leg when he didn’t match her height. She was looking over her photos from her childhood. A tang sprung along Sunoo’s spinal chord. He was leaving was grew to be his home, but his mother was leaving behind her safety life for a second time. When they lived in Seoul, his mother was able to make stops and trips back to town, but when they are going to be a flight away rather than a road trip; it stops every dream of fleeting. 

As Sunoo grew up he knew what happened to her when she stood up for herself, the same that would happen to him if he wasn’t a perfect version of the son of  a tech CEO. If he wasn’t a prodigy, his life would be alot sadder in his state. His heart ached alot for all he was leaving today, but craved justice even more for his mother who remained silent and buried her true yearnings. 

The morning was almost normal. Almost. Jay and Sunghoon showed up at his door, forcing him out of his packed house for breakfast and one last visit to the playground. He had rolled his eyes and called them ridiculous, but deep down, he was grateful.

They swung in silence for a while. There was something peaceful about it, about being with them without the need to fill every moment with words. But the quiet wasn’t just comfortable—it was heavy. Like they were all waiting for something none of them wanted to happen. 

They sat on the swings, instead of being those kids who used to battle over who could get the highest the fastest, they lazily dragged their shoes in the mulch, as if swinging slower would halt time. 

He looked over to the two boys, inking their presence in his mind. Hoping that taking a mental image of all the details will help him come back to this place whenever he needed them. Even if things were unsteady, unsaid, unfelt with Sunghoon, he knew he needed him for safety. Maybe everything happens for a reason, he needed this to become safety for himself without relying on his two older brothers. But he didn’t know he would need to learn that so fast. He was 15, and he was meant to battle the world again by himself knowing there would be no one else like them in his new city. 

Then Sunghoon’s phone rang.

Sunoo wasn’t sure what was said, only that Sunghoon suddenly went stiff, his expression locking up the way it always did when something was wrong. He barely muttered a word before taking off, walking so fast it was like he was running away.

Sunoo called after him, but Sunghoon didn’t turn back.

He left.

Just like that.

Something inside Sunoo cracked.

Maybe if he stayed Sunoo would’ve  told him how he felt, would have changed things for one last time, would have cleared the boggy air they had created around themselves. 

But Sunoo was always like that, wasn’t he. Someone who held on too tight to the What If’s. . 

—

The drive to the airport was suffocating.

His father talked the entire way, something about his new school, the expectations ahead of him, but Sunoo barely registered any of it. His mind was stuck on Sunghoon, on the way he left without looking back.

Jay sat beside him in the backseat, quieter than usual. It was unlike him, and the tension between them only made the weight in Sunoo’s chest heavier. He remembered what Jungwon had taught him, In 4, Hold 4, Out 4. It became something Sunoo had been doing frequently over the last two weeks, it working better in certain instances than others. These was one of those moments where it eased his breathing, but not his blood. 

When they finally pulled up to the departures drop-off, Sunoo swallowed hard, suddenly realizing this was it.

His dad started unloading his bags, but Sunoo barely moved, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“I guess this is where we say goodbye,” he said, trying to sound light, but the words felt thin.

Jay let out a breath. “Yeah.”

Sunoo forced himself to look at him. Jay wasn’t smiling. There was no joke, no teasing remark to fill the awkwardness. Instead, his face was twisted, his throat bobbing as he tried to hold something back.

And then, just like that, Jay broke.

His hands covered his face, his shoulders shaking. “God, I hate this,” he choked out. “This is so stupid, Sunoo. Why the hell do you have to leave?”

Sunoo froze.

He had never seen Jay cry like this before. Not when they lost big games, not when they got in trouble, not even when they fought so badly once that they didn’t speak for a week. Jay was always the one who brushed things off, who found a way to turn even the worst moments into something funny.

But now, he was simply just a boy who sat there crying. 

Sunoo’s own throat tightened.

“Jay…” He hesitated, then pulled him into a tight hug, gripping the back of his hoodie like it was the only thing keeping him together.

Jay clung to him just as hard. “It’s not gonna be the same without you, dude,” he mumbled, voice thick. “Who else is gonna keep me in check? Sunghoon? He barely puts up with me.”

Sunoo let out a weak laugh, but it caught in his chest.

He had spent so long bracing himself for leaving that he hadn’t let himself think about what it would actually feel like to say goodbye. And now that it was happening, it felt unbearable.

Jay pulled back first, sniffling as he wiped his face messily on his sleeve. “God, I probably look so ugly right now.”

“You do,” Sunoo said, voice cracking. “Like, really bad.”

Jay let out a watery laugh, then shoved his shoulder. “Shut up.”

Sunoo smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His hands clenched at his sides, the urge to stall, to stay just a little longer, pressing in on him. But there was no more time.

His dad called his name.

He turned to go, but before he could step out, Jay grabbed his wrist.

“Sunghoon isn’t mad at you,” he blurted. “I don’t know why he left, but I swear it wasn’t because of that.”

Sunoo swallowed hard.

The words felt like they should have been a relief, but instead, they just left him with more questions.

He wanted to believe it.

But the only thing that kept repeating in his head was the sight of Sunghoon walking away.

And no matter how much he wanted to, Sunoo couldn’t shake the feeling that, in the end, he just wasn’t worth staying for.

This town wasn’t supposed to mean anything. It had been temporary—a stop along the way, another place to adjust to, another school, another set of people to blend into. But it had become something else, something he hadn’t expected.

It had become home.

For the first time in his life, he had felt safe, like he could finally breathe without the pressure of expectation sinking into his lungs. He dealt with bullying here, dealt with pranks, suffering, feeling put into a social box. But it was his home, his safety in the most sick and twisted way. It was here where he slowly grew into himself, and maybe here he would grow farther into the exploration of his true self. Tortured by society, it didn’t matter as long as he had Jay and Sunghoon. He even grew to become connected to Wonyoung and Liz, who gifted him a fancy branded lipgloss and a sticker of a photo of the three of them to put on his violin case so that he could “always remember who he used to practice with.” Here, he had felt seen.

And now, he was leaving the only two people he had ever truly felt himself with.

Jay—who had never let him feel alone, who had made him laugh on days he wanted to disappear, who had stood beside him no matter what. Jay who was his first true friend, and never made him feel anything but loved (even when Sunoo would overthink otherwise). Jay, who cried for him today in a way Sunoo hadn’t even cried for himself.

Sunghoon—who had let him into his world without even realizing it, who had singlehandedly made Sunoo feel all the emotions one can grow into, who has switched the way he will look at the world. 

Sunoo clenched his jaw, nails digging into his palms.

He was trying so hard to be okay with this, to convince himself that this was just another change, another chapter. But how was he supposed to be okay with leaving behind the only place where he had ever felt real?

His father had told him this was the right move. That Manila was where he belonged now.

But if that was true, why did it feel like he was being ripped away from everything that had ever made him feel whole?

Sunoo exhaled shakily, turning his face toward the window as the clouds swallowed the ground beneath them.

This was it.

He had no choice but to move forward now.

Chapter Text

SH.

Sunghoon awoke to the loud beeping of his smartphone that was warmed from charging all night. In large numerals it read 0550. Groggiling, he rubs his eyes and runs his fingers in his hair to detangle the strands of bed-head and down his face, hoping the ritual will ease the sleepiness away. He has an early morning routine on these weekends to keep his body used to his weekday morning workouts and practice for basketball. He swung his legs off the bed, feet meeting the cold wooden floor, and stretched his arms above his head, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.

Coffee. He needed coffee today.

He opened the door of his small room to open up to the open-floor plan of the rest of his university apartment. It wasn’t much to see, but it was home for him and his two friends. When Jay and him were both accepted to the university on basketball full ride scholarships they were estatic in the fact they would not need to separate; but, within the fine print the scholarship only covered basic tutition, food, books, housing were all up to them. Within their two bank accounts, there was no way they could afford a place, and commuting two hours into the city every early morning for practice didn’t seem too ideal. They posted an ad on the university’s facebook account and found a bite from a foriegn exchange linguistics major who was scared about not fitting in to the new environment and would love to have some kind roomates and built in friends.

“We’ll form a trio again!” Jay had joked, with a slanted smile that faded into a chizeled forehead crease as he got lost in his thoughts. It had been a couple years since Sunoo had moved away, but the absence of his presence stuck with them every day. Sunghoon got into the habit and forced himself to like Sunoo’s sweet strawberry candies that he would always grab from the convience store because it was habit to pick them up and buy them. He couldn’t just keep buying them and letting them melt in the sun on his desk by the window. Except he never wanted to try the mint chocolate ice cream he would always get at the arcade, never in his life is he tasting it again after Sunoo forced him to.

Jay and him would mention Sunoo all the time, wishing there were ways of contact. One would think they’re dumb for not having his number, but the fact is that they did— but it seized working around a year into Sunoo being gone. With the timezone and various schedules they never had time to talk within that year, but the security of having him a call away if he really needed to hear the bubbly voice of someone so bright was reassuring— until that was taken away from him too.

Sunghoon went towards the kitchenet that was next to the front door of the apartment, he poured a warm cup of coffee into a mug that Jake had bought for him and Jay in a matching set as a home-warming gift.

Sunghoon was jolted up his spine as he heard a door on his left open, confused on who else would be up at this time in the morning. One would think Jay would follow Sunghoon’s same routine, but his best friend would rather sleep the whole weekend and deal with the change in schedule during the week than keep up with it as he did.

A taller boy walked down the hall, and Sunghoon let the air he was holding escape. He didn’t mind if people intruded his morning routine, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed when his quiet peaceful time was interrupted.

Sunghoon made eyecontact with the senior engineering culprit. He was disheveled, hair tousled as if he’d just rolled out of bed and couldn’t bother to breath in the same bed as Jake for a second before needing to retreat.

“Leaving him again, Heeseung?” Sunghoon spoke down towards his coffee, too disappointed to look his senior in the eyes. Some would find this disrespectful, not addressing a senior with the proper terms, but Heeseung was a chiller boy— at some times Sunghoon felt like he was even more mature than him.

Heeseung froze in the doorway, his hand still resting on the doorknob as he blinked at Sunghoon, the words clearly stinging a little more than he had expected. His lips pressed into a thin line, the usual carefree smirk now replaced with an expression of awkward guilt.

"Guess so," he muttered, stepping fully into the kitchen. He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. "I— I just needed some air. Jake and I are... complicated."

Sunghoon took a slow sip of his coffee, still trying to get the warmth and bitterness of it to wake him up properly. He wasn’t angry, just tired of seeing the same cycle play out over and over. Heeseung would show up, spend the night with Jake, leave in the early hours like it was nothing, and Jake would be left to pick up the pieces. It had been happening for months now, and Sunghoon hated seeing his friend like this.

"You can’t keep doing this to him, you know," Sunghoon said, his voice quieter this time, not trying to be harsh, but firm. "You can’t keep leaving him hanging like that. He deserves better."

Heeseung looked towards his feet— one in a sock, and the other with a sock rushedly put on— “I know.” He said before he made his way to the front door and left with a stern slam.

Jay— surprisingly— came out of the hallway, a sigh escaping his lips as he caught Sunghoon’s gaze and raised an eyebrow. "Again?"

Sunghoon exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, looks like it."

They both exchanged a knowing look. It was the same routine every time—Heeseung would show up at Jake's, spend the night, then slip away with some half-hearted excuse. Jake was falling for him, but Heeseung wouldn’t commit. Jake wouldn’t share with them why, kept making excuses for the elder— ignoring his own feelings.

Jake reminded Sunghoon of Sunoo constantly, in his moments of insecurity and incessant kindness. In the moments where no matter what Jake would see the best in people, he thinks Sunoo would be so happy that Jay and him were able to find such a kind roommate.

"I think it's time we have a talk with Jake," Jay said, his voice low. "If Heeseung isn’t gonna make up his mind, Jake should be free to... well, you know."

Sunghoon nodded, his stomach churning. "Yeah. I just hate seeing him like this. He deserves better."

"Yeah, he does. But we can’t force Heeseung to decide," Jay said, shaking his head. "Let’s go to that party tonight. Maybe Jake just needs a change of scenery."

"Yeah, good idea," Sunghoon agreed. "Get his mind off things."

The two of them wandered back into their shared room, and Sunghoon sat down at his desk, pulling out his textbooks. But as he glanced over the homework spread in front of him, his frustration grew. His major—veterinary science—had always been his dad’s dream, not his. It felt like fate. He had all the basic knowledge from helping his father out, but now, in the middle of his second year, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was doing this for the wrong reasons.

His phone buzzed, pulling him out of his thoughts. It was his dad, just as he’d hoped. He picked it up, putting it on speaker as he rested his head against his hand.

"Hey, Dad," Sunghoon greeted, trying to keep his voice light.

"Hey, son," his dad’s voice came through, warm and comforting despite the circumstances. "I’m in the waiting room for my check-up. Same old, same old. But I’m doing alright. Just got to keep pushing through."

Sunghoon swallowed hard. His dad’s heart had been giving him trouble for the past couple of years, but he always downplayed it. He didn’t want Sunghoon to worry.

"Good to hear," Sunghoon said, forcing a smile, knowing that his father can read through his lie of fleeing worry.

His dad interrupted changing the subject suddenly, his voice filled with pride. "You know, the family next door is getting some good news. Their kid is getting a national award for his scores. They moved in after Sunoo’s family too. Makes me think... maybe the place next door is blessed, huh?"

Sunghoon didn’t know how to respond. He had heard about the new family, but the mention of their child’s achievements made a lump form in his throat.

"That’s great," Sunghoon replied, his voice quiet. "I... I’ll call you later, okay?"

"Alright, son," his dad said, unaware of the weight on Sunghoon’s shoulders. "Take care of yourself."

As the call ended, Sunghoon’s gaze wandered to the corner of his desk, where an old photo sat. It was a picture of him, Jay, and Sunoo—back when they were carefree, still innocent to the reality of the world. Back when everything felt simple, before Sunoo had left, before Sunghoon had made all these decisions he couldn’t take back. He hadn’t seen or heard from Sunoo in years. Their paths had drifted apart, and Sunghoon couldn’t help but feel the ache of lost time.

The three of them had been so naive back then. They had been invincible, their futures bright and full of possibilities. Now, Sunghoon was standing at a crossroads, wondering if he was on the right path or if he had been so blinded by his father’s dreams that he had lost sight of his own.

The weight of everything—his dad’s health, his future— felt like it was suffocating him.

Sunghoon stared down into his cup of coffee, watching the ripples on the surface settle as the steam drifted lazily up into the air. His thoughts wandered, as they often did in quiet moments like these, back to a time when things seemed simpler, when the three of them—Sunghoon, Jay, and Sunoo—were inseparable. It felt like a lifetime ago now, but the memories still felt as vivid as ever, like snapshots frozen in time.

They used to joke about how they’d be together forever, no matter what. Sunoo’s bright laugh, his silly little quirks, and his infectious enthusiasm for everything, from school to music to the smallest, most mundane things. Sunghoon could almost hear his voice in the back of his mind, the way Sunoo would always tease him for being too serious or for his inability to understand why anyone would choose mint chocolate ice cream.

It wasn’t even the ice cream that made those days so memorable—it was Sunoo himself. His presence had been a constant, a source of warmth and comfort. But now, Sunghoon could barely remember what it felt like to have him around. The days seemed colder without him, even in the heat of the city.

It was funny, really. They all had Sunoo’s number, but once he left, the texts started bouncing back. The calls went unanswered, and the time zone differences that once seemed manageable suddenly felt insurmountable. For a while, it had been like Sunoo had just... disappeared. The messages Jay and Sunghoon had sent to him, the attempts to stay in touch—they all felt so futile now. It was as if he had never existed in the first place, like he was just a figment of their imagination, a dream they could never quite hold onto. An imaginary friend that was so great and amazing that seemed impossible to actually exist.

Sunghoon’s fingers clenched around the mug, the warmth of the coffee contrasting with the tightness in his chest. It felt like he was mourning the loss of something he didn’t fully understand. Sunoo wasn’t gone in the traditional sense—he hadn’t passed away—but the way he had vanished from their lives, made it feel like something was broken inside Sunghoon.

It was frustrating. It was like Sunoo had made the decision to disappear entirely, to erase himself from the lives of everyone who cared about him. The unanswered calls and dead ends had left Sunghoon feeling like he was chasing a ghost.

Jay had been the first one to suggest they search for him. It started small, just checking in with the old friends they’d shared with Sunoo, trying to piece together any information. But every lead turned up dry. It wasn’t like Sunoo had disappeared into thin air—he had simply pulled away from everyone, and it left Sunghoon and Jay in this limbo, unsure of what had happened or why Sunoo had made that choice.

At first, Sunghoon had been angry. Angry at Sunoo for leaving without a word. Angry at himself for not saying a proper goodbye. And maybe a little angry at Jay too—for not figuring out how to keep them all together, the way they had planned. But as the months wore on, the anger faded, replaced by a dull ache in his chest. He missed him.

"Sunoo," Sunghoon muttered softly under his breath, the name rolling off his tongue like a prayer. It felt strange, like it wasn’t his voice anymore, but a memory’s echo.

He missed the way Sunoo had always been there for him, the way they would talk about everything and nothing at all, just enjoying each other's company. He missed the way Sunoo had pushed him to be less serious, to loosen up, to not take everything so seriously all the time. Sunghoon didn’t know how to move forward without him, and no matter how much time passed, there was this void in his heart that no one—no matter how close—could fill.

It was stupid, really. He and Jay both had their own lives now—basketball, school, their future—but it still felt like something was missing. Maybe that was why he hadn’t been able to move on from his major, or why he found himself constantly questioning whether he was doing the right thing. Sunoo had been a part of their plans, part of their future. And without him, everything felt a little off, like a story with a missing chapter.

But now, in the quiet of his apartment, Sunghoon found himself wondering if Sunoo had ever really wanted to stay. If he had ever truly wanted to be a part of their lives the way they had imagined. Maybe it wasn’t just Sunoo that had changed—maybe it was them too. Maybe Sunoo had realized something they hadn’t.

The thoughts swirled in Sunghoon’s mind, but before he could dive deeper into them, a loud knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Sunghoon?" Jay’s voice rang out from the hallway. "Jake’s up, pour him some coffee, he likes when you make it the best."

Sunghoon placed the empty mug down on the counter and exhaled, forcing the thoughts of Sunoo to the back of his mind for now. He didn’t have answers. Maybe he’d never get them. But for now, he had to focus on the present. On the team. On the future he was trying to build.

But as he stood up and walked toward the door, the ache in his chest remained. And he couldn’t help but wonder—was Sunoo out there somewhere, still thinking about them too? Or had he really disappeared, like a shadow that could never be recaptured?

SN.

Sunoo’s flight landed in the early morning, the cool air of Korea greeting him as he stepped off the plane, taking a deep breath. He’d been away for so long, and yet, now that he was back, it felt like nothing had changed. The city stretched out before him, bustling with life and energy, just like it always had. But for Sunoo, the excitement was different this time. He wasn’t coming back as the naive kid who had left. He wasn’t coming back to the comfort of the familiar. He was coming back to start anew, to redefine himself in a place that held both memories and fresh potential.

His cousin Jungwon was there to meet him, as always, standing by the gate with a soft smile. Jungwon had been the one constant in Sunoo’s life. He’d been his saving grace, the person who had fought for him when no one else did. When Sunoo had decided to leave Manila behind—leave the toxic environment his father had created, the pressure to perform, the constant manipulation—it had been Jungwon who made it possible for him to come to Korea and start fresh. Without him, Sunoo wasn’t sure what he would have done.

Jungwon greeted him with a quick embrace, the warmth of his hug a stark contrast to the cold air around them. "Welcome back," he said, his voice always a little more comforting than he intended. Sunoo smiled faintly, feeling the weight of everything that had led him here.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” Sunoo said quietly. “I don’t know how I would’ve done it without you.”

Jungwon gave him a knowing look, his eyes soft but filled with determination. "Don’t mention it. You’ve got a fresh start now. Let’s make the most of it."

As they walked toward the car, Sunoo couldn’t help but glance out at the city, his thoughts drifting back to his time in Manila. The memories were bittersweet—he had initially been excited at the prospect of being a violin prodigy, the attention, the accolades, the promise of a bright future. But none of it had felt real. The kindness he’d received from others had always come with strings attached. People had been overly kind to him, but it was all about his money, his talent, and his family’s growing business empire. He had been nothing but a prize to be claimed, a possession to be used. And he let himself be used, many times. He almost was greatful for the move in that sense, if he had stayed in Korea he would have never been able to explore his sexuality, experience the breakups, the pain, the joys. Although his family never found out about it, and if they had his father would do more to him than his normal punishments, he was grateful for who he was on those weekends where he would leave the academy early and enter a party.

He needed to find himself, he had a long way to go if he was being honest. He had left because he felt he had no other choice, the weight of his father's expectations suffocating him. But as time passed, the light he had once had for music began to fade. The passion he had for the violin—the one thing that had defined him—disappeared. It was like a part of him had died in Manila. And once he’d left Sunghoon and Jay behind, he had only gotten more isolated, lost in the overwhelming expectations of the people around him, never able to find a real connection.

The day he had finally broken free from his father’s emotional abuse had been the hardest day of his life, but also the most liberating. After that, he had done what he thought he could never do: he fought for himself. He left Manila, his father’s grip loosening, and with Jungwon’s support, he had managed to enroll in a university in Korea.

It wasn’t the life he had dreamed of, but it was a chance. A chance to reclaim his life and find something he was passionate about again.

Now, as he settled into the backseat of the car with Jungwon, he couldn’t help but wonder if things had gotten better for Sunghoon and Jay. He hadn’t been in touch with them for so long, and the thought of them living their lives without him—without the trio they had once been—stirred a mix of emotions inside of him. Did they miss him? Were they better off? Had they moved on? It was strange to think about, especially now that he was here in Korea, about to start his own life again.

His thoughts turned inward, memories of the past resurfacing, ones that he had pushed aside for so long. He remembered Sunghoon—his first love, his first puppy love. The way Sunghoon’s presence had made his heart race. He remembered how Sunghoon had always been so serious, so focused, and yet, how he had let Sunoo into his world. Sunghoon had been the one who had unknowingly helped him explore his own feelings, his own identity.

The guilt he’d felt when he had left, the way he had avoided confronting his own feelings for Sunghoon, was something that still haunted him. Did he still feel those things for Sunghoon? No, it would be ridiculous to hold onto this hope and crush on someone he wouldn’t even know anymore. If Sunoo himself had changed so much since his youth, how could he not assume the same for his old friends. But Sunghoon was still the only person who made him feel as comfortable as he could be, even when he was never able to confess or accept the truth of his unrequited love.

In Manila, he had explored his sexuality. He had hooked up with guys, tried to figure out what he wanted from himself, but it had always felt empty. There had been no real connection. No one could replace the first person he had ever cared about like that.

He wondered, as they drove through the streets of the city, if Sunghoon still thought about him. If Jay did. Did they still remember the way they used to be? Did they miss him like he missed them?

The memories of the trio were like he watched a movie with his doppelganger has the main character. He was happy, youthful, full of passion, full of love, kindness, hope. But now he wasn’t living a drama or movie, he was simply living through life.

As the car turned down a street lined with tall buildings and neon signs, Sunoo pushed those thoughts aside. He was back in Korea now. It was time to move forward. He had a future to build, a life to start.

Still, as he looked out the window, the city lights blurred into the reflection of his face, and for a moment, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of everything he had left behind.

His first love, his first heartbreak, and the friends who had once made him feel like he truly belonged.

The car came to a stop in front of a tall, modern building that looked like it could belong to any major university in the world. Sunoo’s heart skipped a beat. This was it. This was his new life. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but the prospect of starting fresh in a new place made him feel both excited and nervous.

Jungwon stepped out of the car first, grabbing his bag from the backseat before turning to offer Sunoo a smile. “Ready?” he asked, his tone warm but carrying a sense of anticipation.

Sunoo nodded, his hand resting on the car door before he stepped out. “Yeah, ready as I’ll ever be.”

The two of them walked inside the building, the air inside cool and fresh. The dormitory wasn’t what Sunoo had imagined—it was a little more industrial than he had expected, with sleek white walls, polished floors, and a minimalist aesthetic. Still, it felt like home in a way that the luxury of his past life never had.

They walked down the hallway to the elevator, the sounds of other students chatting and laughing nearby, the bustle of university life filling the air. Sunoo felt a wave of nostalgia sweep over him as he observed the students walking past—young, carefree, and full of potential. This was a world he had once been a part of, and now, he was back, though he still felt like an outsider looking in.

Inside the elevator, Jungwon pressed the button for their floor, and as the doors closed, he turned to Sunoo with a grin. “So, how do you like it so far? It’s not as fancy as the places you were used to in Manila, but it’s a good place to start, right?”

Sunoo laughed softly. “Yeah, but I think different is good, farther from the past the better, right?”

Jungwon’s grin widened, clearly pleased with Sunoo’s response. “You’ll be more than okay. This place is full of people who are completely different than what you’re used to.”

As the elevator doors opened to their floor, Sunoo couldn’t help but take in the new environment, the quiet hum of students around him, each one immersed in their own little world. Jungwon led him down the hall to their room, his footsteps light with enthusiasm.

When they reached the door, Jungwon swung it open, revealing a small, but cozy room with two beds and large windows that let in the sunlight. There was a desk on each side, a shared closet in the corner, and a small kitchenette area. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a space where he could build a new life, where he could figure things out. His stomach fluttered at the thought.

“This is where we’ll be staying,” Jungwon said, walking inside and tossing his bag on one of the beds. “It’s not much, but it’s home. And the best part is, we’re right next to the campus. Classes are just a short walk away.”

Sunoo nodded, setting his own bag down on the other bed. “I like it. It’s better than I expected. Can’t believe Uncle lets his precious little Wonie stay in something like this though— wouldn’t he want you up in a penthouse somewhere?”

Jungwon’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he leaned against the doorframe. “It was supposed to be like that until I told him I wasn’t going to major in business but law. He took away alot of my allowance, but he’s too softhearted to leave me completely helpless.”

Sunoo raised an eyebrow, tinged with the unintentional sting that his cousin just pinched in his blood.

Sunoo watched Jungwon as he moved around the room, setting up his side. For the first time in a long time, he felt the tiniest glimmer of hope. Maybe this was what he needed—a fresh start, new friends, and a chance to find himself again.

As he unpacked his own things and settled into the rhythm of this new chapter, Sunoo couldn’t help but wonder what would happen next.

The lecture hall was bustling with the quiet chatter of students as they filtered into their seats. Sunoo sat near the back, a seat he had claimed a week ago after an awkward encounter with the professor who had insisted, “We all need to stay close to the front, where the magic happens.”

But he wasn’t ready to immerse himself in that kind of intensity just yet.

He was still adjusting, still feeling out his place in this new chapter of his life. The lecture was on beginner-level performance techniques for classical musicians, a subject he felt more ambivalent about than he wanted to admit. After all, it wasn’t that he didn’t still have the skills. He could play; he always had. But this was different. This was school, and everything here was being weighed and measured.

“Alright, everyone,” the professor’s voice cut through the quiet murmur of the students as she stood in front of the large screen projecting a snippet of a violin performance. “Today, we’ll focus on posture and form. I want each of you to perform the basic bowing technique. Take your time—don’t rush it. You’re not just playing an instrument; you’re telling a story through your movements.”

Sunoo nodded to himself, pulling out his violin from its case. He had always felt that music should speak for itself, that the instrument could tell a story all on its own, but today’s lesson was more about the technicalities, something Sunoo had mastered long ago. But somehow, today, something felt different. Maybe it was because he was surrounded by new faces, all of them so eager, so raw, like him, starting over.

As he got settled into his position, the door opened, and a student who hadn’t been there the previous week slipped in. He was tall, with dark, shaggy hair that fell into his eyes and a confident, almost cocky aura about him. He scanned the room, looking for a seat, before his gaze landed on Sunoo. There was a brief, almost imperceptible flash of recognition between them, but the boy didn’t acknowledge it, instead making his way to the seat beside him.

“Hey, mind if I sit here?” the boy asked, flashing Sunoo a grin.

Sunoo blinked, caught off guard by his directness. “Uh… sure,” he replied. He wasn’t used to people so forward. It was refreshing, in a way.

The boy smiled and sat down, unpacking his bag with a flourish. “Name’s Niki,” he said, offering a hand.

“Sunoo,” Sunoo replied, shaking his hand. He couldn’t help but notice how Niki’s grip was firm, confident—very different from his own hesitancy.

“So, a classical performer, huh?” Niki mused as he set his violin on his lap, turning to face Sunoo. “I’m more into performance arts—dancing, acting, all that jazz—but I’ve always admired classical musicians. There's something about the discipline.”

Sunoo nodded, a little surprised by the sudden interest. “Yeah, it’s not always as glamorous as it sounds. It’s a lot of practice and… well, some pressure.”

Niki smirked. “I know the pressure part. I’m a performance arts major, but I swear they treat me like I’m in an Olympic event every time I do a dance routine. It’s exhausting.”

Sunoo laughed softly, finding comfort in the shared understanding of academic pressure. It felt nice, talking to someone who wasn’t asking him to live up to some impossible ideal.

As the lecture began, Sunoo and Niki settled into their own worlds. Sunoo focused on his bowing, letting the motion become automatic, while Niki seemed to move with an almost effortless grace, even as he mimicked the movements on the violin. They worked through the lesson together, occasionally exchanging small comments and glances, but it wasn’t until the lecture ended that they really began to talk.

—

The 24/7 café was bustling with students, a cozy little corner on campus that everyone seemed to flock to between classes. Sunoo had to admit, he liked the vibe here—the chatter of students, the hum of conversation, the sound of coffee machines steaming milk. It was all so... normal. The kind of life he had never really experienced before, not in Manila, not with the weight of his family’s expectations constantly looming over him.

It was such a normal, carefree moment. Sunoo found himself savoring it more than he expected. There was no pressure, no looming expectations. Just two people talking, relaxing. He had his laptop open at a table with Niki and Jungwon across from him, they were arguing about something that Sunoo had missed the initial stance of, and so he continued to type onto his paper that was due at midnight this evening. Sunoo wasn’t always a procrastinator, but throughout his couple of weeks on campus he grew to find the late minutes of rush extravagant. It gave him the push of adrenaline to get indulged into his work, and brush the passion of the subjects breifly. It wasn’t a full wash over of his old passion that he yearned for, but it was like slowly approaching a stray cat on the street, inching over reaching his hand out closer, and closer, crouching down, hoping no sudden movement will chase it away.

Niki leaned back in his chair, raising his coffee cup in a mock toast. “To another day of Jungwon being an idiot,” he said with a grin.

"First of all, Niki, I am not an idiot. I’m a victim of your illogical arguments," Jungwon shot back, crossing his arms.

"Ah yes, because you always play the victim, don’t you?" Niki grinned, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “Like when you said pineapple on pizza was a crime against humanity? That was you, buddy.”

Sunoo bit back a laugh and continued typing. He wasn’t sure what this debate was about, but he was fairly certain it had started with something equally trivial. Probably something to do with food or some deep philosophical question about whether or not wearing socks with sandals was a crime.

"I never said it was a crime, I just said it was... offensive to my taste buds!" Jungwon retorted. “There’s no need for a crime scene every time I eat something!”

Niki leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with mock seriousness. “You know what else is offensive? The way you wearsocks with sandals—like some kind of tragic middle school fashion statement.”

Sunoo kept his eyes on his screen, desperately trying not to choke on his coffee. He had become so used to these ridiculous arguments that he wasn’t even fazed anymore. In fact, they were... kind of endearing, in a weird, chaotic way.

“I’m just saying," Jungwon continued, “I’m a man of refined tastes and I’m not about to let some... sinister pineapple ruin my pizza experience. There’s nothing more sacred than pizza. It’s a culinary masterpiece.”

Niki snorted. “A culinary masterpiece, huh? So, when was the last time you had pizza that didn’t come from a vending machine at 3 a.m.?”

Jungwon pointed at him. “That was one time, okay?! And it was still better than your 'gourmet' ramen with... what was it? Caviar?”

“Hey!” Niki protested, “That was a delicacy!” He leaned back in his chair dramatically, tossing his hands in the air as if he were making an important declaration. “And it was delicious, thank you very much!”

Sunoo, still typing away, couldn’t help but glance up again. He really had no idea how this all started, but honestly, at this point, he was more invested in watching them go at it than he was in finishing his assignment.

“Guys, can we—please—just agree that neither of you should ever cook for anyone else ever again?” Sunoo said, half-mockingly, half-seriously.

Jungwon narrowed his eyes. “I make great food! It’s just... experimental, you know?”

“Experimental? You mean ‘weird,’” Niki shot back. “Your 'experimental' dishes should come with a warning: ‘May cause existential crises and indigestion.’”

Sunoo couldn’t help it anymore and let out a laugh, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. “Okay, okay, but seriously—back to the argument at hand. What are we even fighting about?”

Niki smirked, turning back to Jungwon with exaggerated seriousness. “Well, we were having a civilized discussion about whether Jungwon is just too stubborn to admit that his taste buds are a lost cause, or if he’s actually a connoisseur of terrible opinions.”

Jungwon threw his hands up. “I’m right though! It’s pineapple! ON pizza! It should be illegal!”

“Uh-huh. Sure,” Niki said, clearly not willing to back down. “It’s you who’s the criminal here, and I’m just the one who’s going to lock you up in the Pizza Hall of Shame.”

Sunoo glanced at the clock on his laptop screen—11:30 PM. The assignment was due in half an hour. He had written... maybe two sentences. He could feel the familiar rush of adrenaline creeping in, his fingers already beginning to speed up. He glanced up at his friends.

"Guys, can we please just agree that we’re all procrastinators and we should probably finish our assignments before we turn this into a three-hour debate on pineapple pizza?" Sunoo said, already turning back to his laptop.

“Yeah, fine,” Jungwon said, a little too nonchalant, “But only if Niki agrees to stop arguing with me about pizza toppings for the next five minutes.”

“Deal,” Niki replied, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But only because I want to see if Sunoo can actually finish his paper in time. That’s a real challenge.”

They clinked their cups together, and Sunoo felt a strange but comforting sense of peace settle in his chest. It wasn’t the life he had expected, but maybe it was the one he needed.

As they sat there, chatting about everything and nothing, Sunoo’s eyes drifted across the café, and something in the back of his mind triggered a flash of recognition.

A figure walked past the large glass window—tall, athletic, with dark hair falling into his eyes. Sunoo’s heart skipped a beat.

It couldn’t be.

He stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair in the process, earning a surprised glance from Niki. But Sunoo’s gaze was fixed on the person outside the window. He was surrounded by other guys, but Sunoo’s eyes fixated to the two in the middle of the commotion.

For a moment, everything seemed to stop. Sunghoon.

But before he could act on the instinct to rush outside, the figure disappeared into the crowd of students on the sidewalk. Sunoo stood there for a second, completely still, his breath caught in his throat.

“Sunoo?” Niki asked, confused. “What’s wrong?”

Sunoo blinked rapidly, trying to shake the feeling of déjà vu that had settled over him. It couldn’t have been. He hadn’t seen Sunghoon in years. And yet, the sight of him—just for a brief second—had triggered a flood of emotions he hadn’t expected.

“Uh… nothing,” Sunoo muttered, returning to his seat, but his hands were shaking slightly. He tried to focus on Niki, but the image of Sunghoon’s back, walking away, lingered in his mind.

“Okay… but you’re acting a little strange,” Niki said with a raised eyebrow, clearly concerned. “You sure you’re alright?”

Sunoo smiled weakly, pushing the thoughts aside. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just… thinking about something.”

Niki didn’t press further, but Sunoo couldn’t shake the feeling that his past had just walked back into his life.

Chapter Text

SN.

sunoo didn’t finish his paper in time, he was exactly 15 minutes late and the last few paragraphs were not up to par with the rest of his writing. he made a mental note to apologize to the professor and make up some excuse when he saw him in class, but for right now he was mindlessly following Jungwon back to their shared space, more quiet than normal.

“what’s got you stuck in your head?” his cousin nudged his arm, tugging on the fabric and grabbing ahold of sunoo to cuddle as they walked. sunoo gave him a slanted smile and nudge as a response. because how could he tell Jungwon about this? how could he say he thinks he just saw his two old best friends and it sent him spiraling down by just seeing the back of sunghoon’s head. the head that belonged to his reasons for many panic attacks, many heart breaks, many crying sessions that jungwon would calm him down from.

when sunoo had acknowledged his feelings for sunghoon, he was naive and scared. he’s aware of his growth now. but the feelings of the past tied and anchored himself to his past sunoo that still sat in the back of his mind shackled to his chained heart that tugged and pulled at his vocal chord that leave him silent.

“what do you think sunghoon and jay would think of me now?” he spoke kicking a pebble on the ground as him and jungwon walked in unison, right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot.

jungwon inhaled, truly contemplating the question knowing sunoo was asking for a deeper meaning than just the words he spoke. after a short breath he looked up at the stars, “I think they’d be proud,” he said, eyes still on the stars above them. “And probably confused. Because you’re not who you used to be—but you’re still you. You just… grew into yourself.”

Sunoo didn’t answer. He felt the lump rise in his throat, the kind that threatened to become a sob if he breathed too deep.

Jungwon glanced at him, then gently bumped their shoulders together. “They’d see someone brave. Someone who chased what he wanted, even if it hurt.”

“i don’t know if they would even recognize me.” and Sunoo didn’t just mean because he had dyed his hair blonde and wore makeup. he was proud of himself for how he changed into the strong confident beacon he always saw in the older boys. he thinks if he knew everything he did now, he would have been a better friend, less of a burden.

“I think if you were in a room with a million other clones they would be able to find which one is the real kim sunoo.” Jungwon spoke with such certainty that it gave sunoo no doubt but to warm his heart to that.

When the two boys arrived at their place, jungwon took to the shower first, singing so loud that sunoo couldn’t even hear the original artist. he laid on his bed looking up at the ceiling’s bumps as if they were constellations— searching for meaning in the stars. searching for answers, searching for…

searching.

Sunoo sprung up on his bed leaping for his phone that he plugged in on his nightstand. He thanked the duo for being so renown for their sport as he typed “Park Jongsung basketball” into his search engine. the loading screen seemed to circle for an eternity mocking sunoo for being so stupid to not think of doing this sooner. for not doing it the moment he came off the plane. for not doing it the moment his heart ached for his past friends. for his Manila self for thinking blocking them out of his mind was for the best.

suddenly the top matches came up.

National Deciles University 2020 Roster:

Zhong Chenle

Jung Sungchan

Park Jongsung

Shin Ricky

Kim Jungmo

Park Jihoon

Kang Taehyun

Lee Yongbok

Jung Wooyoung

Hwang Intak

Kim Jaehee

and Sunoo‘s breath hitched as he saw the name that confirmed his eyes just hours prior.

Park Sunghoon.

His fingers worked faster than his mind as his legs carried him running into the bathroom and turning Jungwon’s music off. His hand holding his phone shaking as he looked into his reflection in the mirror, where he saw his expression of guilt and excitement all in one.

“Sunoo what the fu-“

“Wonie they’re here. They’re here at NDU. They’ve been here the whole time.”

Jungwon didn’t speak, instead he immediately shut the water off and took his towels wrapping them around himself.

Sunoo walked his way onto their couch, sitting down and feeling the way his heart sped up. i can see them again. we can find each other again. his thoughts flew around and bounced in his skull so fast that if there was an author for this moment they would not be able to form a coherent metaphor for just how yearnful his heart beat. like it was conditioned like a pavlov dog to alert only to their names.

he couldn’t wait for jungwon, he immediately took to social media and found the university’s basketball team account. following it without thinking twice (something Jungwon would later scold him for because that’s not the “proper way” to stalk your old friends, apparently)

he scrolled through the posts, his heart hammering against his chest with each swipe. their faces hadn't changed much; jay still had that intense look during games, and sunghoon still moved with the same grace he'd always had. sunoo's thumb hovered over a particularly recent photo of them celebrating after a win, their arms thrown around each other's shoulders, and he felt that familiar ache bloom in his chest.

call it nostalgia, call it desperation, call it need. Whatever it was, it was enough to make Sunoo’s heart feel uneasy and his breath get suck on his ribs. Jungwon sat down on the couch next to him, indenting the leather with his damp towel around his hips as he scratched his hair with a separate towel, sending droplets of water onto the screen of Sunoo’s phone.

“So what’s the plan? Are you just gonna internet stalk them forever?”

“I don’t know, I don’t even know if they would want to see me again.” Sunoo fell back, leaving his phone on the coffee table. “Things left off so definite. I don’t even remember what the last thing I said to them was.”

He was lying. He knew he was. He knew Jungwon knew he was. But yet, he still said it. Wanting to feign emotion, attachment, that aching yearn to depend on them again. They were everything to him, a piece of his heart was always going to stay buried in that apartment bonded with those two boys. But he couldn’t want them and also be certain he’ll still be the Sunoo he is now with them. He was afraid of regression, afraid of losing all the progress he made to become comfortable with who he was. How could he put this into words? How could he explain that he is fully proud of himself, but not certain in himself enough to face the two boys whose opinions mean more to him than even his father?

Sunoo curled up on the couch, tucking his knees to his chest as if making himself smaller could somehow make these feelings more manageable. He thought about all the times Jay had encouraged him to speak his mind, how Sunghoon had always listened without judgment. Maybe that was what scared him the most, that they'd still be those same understanding people, and he'd have no excuse left to keep running.

"Okay well I just requested them on social media, it looks like Niki already follows them." Jungwon threw water on Sunoo's body. Not literally, like the drooling drops from his hair danced to his skin, but in a sense that Sunoo's brain stopped in its tracks. While Sunoo was like a careful gardener, methodically tending to his emotional flowers with precise movements and calculated care, Jungwon was more like a summer storm. Rushing in with thunder and lightning, making things happen without hesitation. Sunoo would spend hours pruning his thoughts, but Jungwon would just shake the whole tree to see what falls. This is how they worked together, one deliberate and thoughtful, the other spontaneous and direct.

When Niki joined them at the beginning of the semester, he was an equal merge of the two while having a novice look at life. He was so willing to be out for others, but also so weary of the littlest things. His eyes would linger a moment too long when Sunoo laughed, and he'd unconsciously lean closer whenever the older boy spoke. But that was just how he was, easily adaptable. With Jungwon, he was rough and tough and had thick skin. With Sunoo, he was tentative and gentle, his voice softening automatically, treating each interaction like he was handling delicate cherry blossoms in spring.

Suddenly, Jungwon sprung up and moved quickly. Like if he was going any slower, Sunoo would fly away. Instead, the older boy just watched in confusion as the kitten-like boy took the remote of their TV and turned on a random movie on Netflix. An action movie, something that normally wasn’t in their favorite genres— and fast-forwarded to a random 36-minute mark and left it playing. He turned towards Sunoo and grabbed the boy’s ankles earning a yelp and anger from the victim, and placed them gently onto the coffee table, crossing them at the ankle and giving them a love tap that translated to “Don’t move.” He then sat back onto the couch, took his phone to eye level, and quickly snapped a picture and swiftly tapped his fingers leaving the haptics to make a melody in the silence as Sunoo held his breath. Jungwon had a smile as he turned his phone off, simulatneously Sunoo’s phone lit up the room like a beacon.

Yang_Wonie tagged you in a post!

“Wonie, what did you do?”

“I did something that requires putting the ball in their court. Pun totally intended.” He was smug, like he was the smartest human alive, “Jay already accepted my request and followed me back. All I’m doing is putting it out to the world that my adorable cousin is on campus with me watching a… whatever movie this is. And my dearest cousin just so happens to be someone else’s long lost friend who fell off of contact from being locked away for years who sadly can’t send a text message through his violin. It’s up to him to put it together that the @sunnykim is his old best friend.”

Sunoo stared at Jungwon, blinking slowly like his brain was still buffering the chaos that just unfolded in front of him.

"You tagged me?!" he finally squawked, the horror dawning on him like a slow, embarrassing sunrise.

"Relax." Jungwon leaned back, hands behind his head, smirking like the devil he was. "It’s just a casual post. You’re in comfy clothes, the lighting’s good, you look emotionally mysterious. Very main character."

Sunoo buried his face into his palms, groaning. “I look like I just cried over a fight scene in a movie because it’s too extreme.”

"Which would not be unbelievable, knowing you," Jungwon teased. But his voice softened, his foot nudging against Sunoo’s shin gently. “Look. You’ve been wishing for a chance. You finally got it. Don’t freeze up now.”

Sunoo peeked through his fingers, feeling exposed and vulnerable like someone had cracked him open and laid all his messy hopes across the coffee table. His phone lit up again, buzzing this time.

1 New Notification: @ParkJaY liked your photo.

1 New Notification: @ParkJaY started following you.

1 New Message Request: Jay Park sent you a message.

Sunoo’s lungs forgot how to work. He grabbed his phone like it was a bomb about to detonate, almost dropping it twice from how badly his fingers were shaking. Jungwon peered over dramatically, whispering, "Open it... or I will."

Sunoo glared but ultimately swiped to open the message, his heart thrumming so hard it made his vision swim for a moment. The screen loaded.

Jay Park:

wait.

is this really you?

It was like the entire world tilted off its axis for a second. A simple message, clumsily typed, no punctuation beyond the first shocked wait. It was so Jay. It was so them.

Sunoo pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the beat of everything he buried for years claw its way to the surface. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, but he swallowed them down, typing back before he could talk himself out of it.

Sunoo:

yeah. it’s me.

The typing bubble appeared instantly. Sunoo’s vision blurred as he watched it flicker on and off, Jay clearly typing and deleting and typing again.

And then:

Jay Park:

where have you been

i thought you disappeared for good

sunghoon’s gonna freak when he finds out.

Sunoo gasped quietly, feeling Jungwon’s hand land on his shoulder for silent support.

Freak. Sunghoon was going to freak.

Was that a good thing? A bad thing? Was it anger, relief, betrayal, sadness? He didn’t know. But it was emotion. It was feeling. It was connection.

He hadn’t been forgotten.

The realization cracked something open inside him, something he thought had long ago closed up and petrified into a memory.

Sunoo leaned his head against Jungwon’s bony shoulder, phone clutched tight to his chest.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Jungwon ruffled his hair, laughing, "You’ll thank me more when you're crying happy tears into Jay’s jacket after he tackles you."

Sunoo let himself smile, for real this time, a fragile thing but alive.

Maybe just maybe the universe was giving him a second chance.

Maybe it was finally time to stop running.

SH.

The ball bounced off the rim with a hollow clang, rolling out toward the sidelines. Sunghoon grunted in frustration, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair as he jogged after it.

Practice had ended fifteen minutes ago, but he stayed behind, alone on the court except for Jay perched lazily on the bleachers, half-watching him and half-scrolling on his phone.

Sunghoon grabbed the ball and threw it hard against the backboard, catching it as it rebounded. His palms burned from the friction, his muscles sore, but it still wasn’t enough to quiet his head.

The feeling of being trapped was worse now. With every step, every decision, it felt like he was tightening the noose around his own neck.

He wanted to move.

He wanted to breathe.

Jay chuckled under his breath, looking at his screen. Sunghoon caught it — the sound. It wasn’t mocking. It was… surprised. Curious.

“What?” Sunghoon called out, dribbling lazily toward the three-point line.

Jay glanced up with a smug, half-smile. “You’re never gonna believe this,” he said, waving his phone in the air. “Guess who I found?”

Sunghoon paused, palms sweaty against the ball. “Who?” he asked, more cautious than curious.

Jay hopped off the bleachers, walking over. His sneakers squeaked against the polished floor. “Sunoo,” he said, like it was obvious. Like it wasn’t a name that could punch Sunghoon right in the gut.

“He’s here. At NDU. I just DMed him.”

Sunghoon froze.

The ball slipped out of his hands, hitting the court with a dull thud and rolling toward the baseline. Sunoo.

The last time he’d seen him…

God, Sunghoon couldn’t even let himself go there.

He remembered that morning too clearly: how they had planned to spend the whole day together, how he had written a note he never gave Jay to pass along, how he had gotten that call about his dad’s emergency surgery, and just left.

No goodbye.

No explanation.

Sunghoon bent down slowly, pretending to tie his shoe even though it didn’t need tying, anything to buy himself a few seconds to gather the shattered pieces of his composure.

He could feel Jay’s gaze on him, heavy, knowing.

“You okay?” Jay asked, voice lighter than it should have been, like he already knew the answer. Like he knew that Sunoo had an effect on him that he himself didn’t know about yet.

“Yeah,” Sunghoon lied, pulling the laces tighter until they bit into his fingers. “Just… surprised.”

You’re a coward, that nasty little voice in his head whispered.

You left him. You abandoned him. You did exactly what he was afraid of. You knew it. You don’t get to be surprised he’s still living his life without you.

Jay didn’t push, thankfully. Just clapped a hand on his back, a comforting weight. “He’s still Sunoo, dude. Probably still loves cute stationary and crying at nature documentaries and making you taste-test his weird Pinterest recipes. It’s not like he hates us or something.”

But Sunghoon wasn’t sure about that.

Because if he were Sunoo, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t hate them. Him, most of all. He didn’t bother trying to contact him more than those futile attempts, he didn’t bother trying to fix their fight before he left. He didn’t. That’s what Sunghoon told himself, he simply failed Sunoo all because of “I didn’t”s.

They walked back to their apartment slowly, sneakers scuffing against the pavement. The air was cool, the sky bleeding into dusky navy blue with the sun fighting its way to stay awake. Jay filled the silence with casual chatter — upcoming games, some dumb meme he’d seen, random drama from his seminars — but Sunghoon barely heard him.

He kept seeing Sunoo in his mind.

Not the Sunoo from the polished Instagram posts Jay showed him.

But the Sunoo he remembered.

Wide, eager eyes. Shy but stubborn smiles. The kid who used to follow him and Jay around like a second shadow, always tugging at their sleeves, always looking at them like they hung the stars in his sky.

And he, Sunghoon, had let that kid down.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, balling them into fists. I have to make it right. Somehow. Even if Sunoo never wanted to forgive him.

Back at the apartment, Jake was practically bouncing by the door, throwing on his jacket a little too quickly.

“I’m heading out,” he said, a little too casually, slipping his phone into his back pocket.

Jay, stretched out on the couch with a lazy arm slung over his eyes, cracked one open suspiciously. “Where?”

Jake fumbled with his sneakers, pretending like he didn’t hear. “Just… meeting up with people.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow from where he was nursing a bottle of water at the counter. “People? Or someone?”

Jake laughed awkwardly, tugging his cap lower over his eyes. “Does it matter?”

“It matters if it’s Heeseung,” Jay grumbled, sitting up properly now. “Dude, you know he’s—”

“I know,” Jake cut him off, his voice tight, avoiding their gazes. “I’ll be fine. You guys worry too much, we’re gonna be with the dance group. Tomorrow morning you will find me in my bed, no Heeseung. I promise.”

Sunghoon didn’t bother arguing. He just leaned back against the counter, feeling the coldness of the water bottle bite into his palm. They’d had this conversation too many times already, and Jake was stubborn enough to pretend none of it mattered.

Sunghoon and Jay were only given the story from Jake’s point of view. It was a biased one of an innocent boy who just fell in love with someone who wasn’t prepared for him, and it left him in a continuous cycle of confusion. There were many times where Sunghoon would have to stay up comforting Jake as he got cancel calls from Heeseung when they would plan “dates”. If you can even call them that, when Heeseung was having “dates” with half the campus.

The duo wasn’t sure how Jake and Heeseung even met, their majors never interacting and buildings on opposite sides of campus. Suddenly Jake had announced that he was an honorary part of the dance team as their manager, even though it was way past the deadline to try out or apply. The rest was history after that. Now that there was Jake after Heeseung, they weren’t sure if they even remembered Jake before Heeseung.

The door shut behind Jake, leaving a vacuum of silence.

Jay reached for his phone again sighing with unspoken feelings, thumbing through it absently before pausing. “You know,” he said, holding the screen toward Sunghoon without really looking at him, “Sunoo looks so lively. Like, genuinely happy. His posts are all sunsets and cafés and group pictures with friends. All of his concerts and performances, even look at how big this crowd is watching him on stage. Manila must’ve been good to him.”

Sunghoon didn’t move. He didn’t reach for the phone.

Instead, he stared at it. At the bright, vibrant snapshot of a boy he used to know better than anyone.

He felt something uncoil deep in his chest, something old and protective and a little bit sick.

Sunoo, smiling so wide his eyes nearly disappeared, laughing in a way that made it seem like the world had never hurt him. But Sunghoon knew better. Sunoo had always been good at putting on a brave face.

A memory hit him hard:

Sunoo at fifteen, curled up in the backseat of Jay’s car after a rough day, hiding his tears behind a hoodie sleeve. Sunghoon had sat beside him, silent, holding Sunoo’s wrist gently like it would snap if he wasn’t careful. Just being there because he didn’t know what else to do. And now…

Now Sunoo had been in Manila for years. Alone. Without them.

Who was there to hold his wrist when things got too heavy? Who made sure he wasn’t hiding bruises under those sweaters he used to love? Who kept him safe when he was too shy to speak up for himself?

Sunghoon gripped the countertop until his knuckles turned white.

His mind, usually so methodical, spun out of control with every terrible possibility.

What if someone hurt him?

What if someone took advantage of him being too trusting, too kind?

What if Sunoo had cried himself to sleep some nights, thinking he’d been abandoned by the people who promised they’d always be there?

The what-ifs piled up, ugly and relentless, each one stoking a fire in his chest he didn’t know how to put out.

He hadn’t been there.

He hadn’t protected him.

And now he didn’t even know if he deserved to.

Jay must’ve noticed the shift in him because he put his phone down slowly, his playful tone softening. “He looks good, though, Hoon. He really does.”

Sunghoon didn’t answer.

He just stood there, staring blankly at the door Jake had walked out of, feeling the guilt and rage knotting tighter inside him.

If someone hurt him, Sunghoon thought, I don’t care who it is. They’re not walking away from it.

He didn’t realize his fists were trembling until Jay nudged his foot under the counter, grounding him.

“Hey,” Jay said quietly. “We’ll see him again. It’s not too late.”

Sunghoon wanted to believe that.

God, he needed to believe that.

But another voice, the one he couldn’t silence, whispered:

You already failed him once.

Sunghoon barely registered the quiet hum of the TV as he turned away from the living room. He mumbled something about needing to shower, needing to change, needing something—anything to give him an excuse to get out of that room where the air felt too heavy to breathe.

He closed the door to his room behind him, shutting out Jay’s knowing gaze.

The room was dim, the only light bleeding in from the streetlamp outside his window illuminating the dust as if they were blessed fairies. Sunghoon leaned his back against the door for a second, squeezing his eyes shut. His heartbeat was still thunderous, a deep thrumming in his ears that refused to calm. He didn’t know what he was looking for until his body moved on its own.

Pushing aside a pile of textbooks and clean laundry he never folded, he knelt by the edge of his bed, pulling out an old, beaten-up blue tote bag.

It was the same bag he’d packed the night before leaving for college. The same one he had promised himself he would sort through once he was “settled.” He never did. He never bothered to.

The zipper stuck halfway, the fabric snagged and worn, but he forced it open, the smell of old paper and stale cologne hitting him immediately.

Inside were fragments of a life he didn’t let himself think about:

A cracked keychain Sunoo had gifted him in their last year of high school.

A faded Polaroid of the three of them; him, Jay, and Sunoo, grinning with ice cream dripping down their wrists.

An old hoodie he thought he lost, the sleeves still faintly smelling like summer bonfires.

And there, buried under it all, was the crumpled, yellowed letter.

Sunghoon’s fingers hesitated before picking it up, careful, like he might shatter it. The edges were soft and frayed from where he’d folded and unfolded it too many times, but he recognized his own messy handwriting immediately.

He sat back against the bedframe, the paper trembling between his hands.

He hadn’t even given it to him.

He remembered writing it in a panic the night before Sunoo’s flight to Manila, remembered thinking I’ll give it to him tomorrow. There’s time.

But then there wasn’t.

Sunoo was gone.

And Sunghoon—he just kept living.

He smoothed the letter out against his knee, his eyes dragging over the words he’d once been too much of a coward to say out loud:

“I don’t know how to say this without sounding stupid, but you’re everything that feels like home to me. I don’t think I ever told you that before. I hope you find happiness over there, Sunoo. But if you ever feel lonely… just know, you can always come back. I’ll be waiting.”

Sunghoon closed his eyes, the shame blooming hot in his chest.

He never sent it.

He never called.

He never reached out.

And now here he was, years later, scrolling through Sunoo’s smiling pictures like a stranger trying to remember what love used to look like.

He pressed the heel of his palm against his eyes, willing the burn behind them to go away.

If he let himself think about it too long, it would drown him—the guilt, the regret, the aching want to turn back time and fix it.

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t fix it by hiding anymore.

Sunghoon folded the letter carefully, as if trying to make up for all the years he’d neglected it, and placed it on his nightstand.

Tomorrow, he told himself.

Tomorrow, he would find a way to make it right.

Even if Sunoo didn’t need him anymore. Even if he was too late. He needed to try.

For once, he couldn’t run from the past.

He owed Sunoo that much.

SN.

Sunoo didn’t expect much from the dance event.

Sunoo never knew how to dress for dance events. Jungwon said it didn’t matter, that everyone would be wearing anything from sweatpants to sequins, but still, Sunoo had changed shirts three times before they left the apartment. His nerves weren’t even for the crowd or the music, or even Niki’s surprise solo Jungwon hinted about. It was everything else. The restlessness in his chest. The way he’d caught himself checking his phone, again and again, like something was supposed to happen.

He was there for Niki, plain and simple. The first-year had been jittering all week, texting their group chat with cryptic emojis and half-rehearsal rants that made no sense unless you knew Niki’s exact thought patterns. Jungwon had dragged Sunoo out the door with a soda in one hand and a portable fan in the other, chattering nonstop about how proud he was of their youngest.

It was supposed to be lighthearted. Fun. Normal. The auditorium was loud and bright, pulsing with colored lights and laughter. NDU’s dance program didn’t hold back for showcases. Music thundered from the walls as students swarmed the floor, shouting over each other to find seats or record their friends. But nothing about what happened next was normal. Nothing about them ever had been.

They were halfway to their seats when Jungwon suddenly stopped walking, his hand tightening on Sunoo’s arm with enough force to leave a dent.

“What—?”

Jungwon didn’t answer right away. His eyes were fixed on something behind Sunoo. And then he said, barely above a whisper:

“They’re here.”

Sunoo turned.

And time split. No amount of emotional prep could’ve prepared him. Life never did.

Jay. Sunghoon.

There. In real life. With real faces. With the same voices, probably, if they said anything—but the sound around them had dissolved completely. The music, the noise, the audience—it all sank under the weight of those two silhouettes standing near the entrance.

The first thing that hit Sunoo wasn’t panic.

It was ache.

A tidal wave of five years’ worth of longing, grief, guilt, and a stubborn, lingering love that never dissolved no matter how many miles separated them. It clenched his heart like a fist, sharp and sudden, and it hurt more than he thought it would.

Jay looked older, yes. but still just Jay. The same Jay that told him he was the little brother he always used to beg his parents for. The same confident posture, the easy smile he only gave to people he really cared about. Sunghoon stood beside him, still somehow ethereal. Sharper jaw. Shoulders broader. Same eyes. Those hadn’t changed at all. They still looked like winter had a voice.

Sunoo forgot how to breathe. His body didn’t feel like it belonged to him anymore. His knees were hollow. His hands rendered useless, barely holding onto the program in his hand. His lungs grasping at air like a drowning man. Sunoo’s fingers curled tighter around the hem of his blazer, the vibrant embroidery catching on his rings. His nails were painted today, a dusty lilac that matched his soft eye makeup. He'd worn lip gloss. High-waisted pants. A cropped mesh top layered with a jacket Niki had gifted him that he insisted made him look like a star. It made him feel bold, until now.

He had imagined this moment—dozens of times, in dozens of ways. He’d pictured dramatic reunions, heartfelt monologues, maybe even tears.

But he’d never expected this.

Just standing there.

Measly three feet away.

Close enough to touch.

Close enough that the urge to cry crept up his spine and curled in his throat. His heart hammered violently against his chest, not just from the emotional weight of the moment—but from terror. Terror that the boys he used to trust with every part of himself might look at him now and flinch. He had become himself in these last five years. Finally. Fully. Loudly. But now he wished he was a bit more quiet.

But what if the people he loved the most didn’t want this version?

What if they looked at him and saw a stranger?

Jay was the first to step forward.

“Hey,” he said, like it hadn’t been five years since their last goodbye. Like time didn’t make monsters out of what they used to be.

Sunoo’s lips parted but the words didn’t come. He nodded. Barely.

Sunghoon’s eyes didn’t waver. His mouth didn’t move. He just stood there and looked at him. Really looked. Like he was tracing every line of Sunoo’s face, every angle that changed and every part that hadn’t. The silence between them spoke of sleepless nights and unsent messages, of protection, and heartbreak, and something more sacred than friendship.

Jay was smiling, but it was tight, strained.

Like he knew how fragile Sunoo felt inside. They said nothing else. They didn’t need to. The air said it all.

Jay’s eyes darted to the program in Sunoo’s hands and yanked it from his loose shaking grip, just like he used to do with candy Sunoo would eat and they would insist that they would never eat it (the duo would end up sneaking a few handfuls). He looked towards Sunghoon, then around the room above Sunoo and Jungwon’s head. He brushed past him, Sunoo’s breath stopped. Did he just leave? Sunghoon stood in front of him, obviously confused at what their best friend was doing.

Jay came back in a few seconds, which to Sunoo felt like hours. But, he waited years for them, he considers that a few extra seconds wouldn’t matter at this point. The older boy held out his hands. In one was the program, very obviously missing a piece of the bottom corner. In the other was the missing puzzle piece folded into 4.

“Our numbers,” he said. “And the date of our next game. If… you ever wanna come.”

It felt too intimate. Too casual. Too real.

Sunoo’s fingers trembled as he took it. The paper was warm from Jay’s hand. It made the whole thing feel more alive, like this moment was breathing, watching, waiting for what would come next.

“This is weird,” Jay laughed a little, and that made Sunoo’s lungs work again.

“It is,” Sunoo agreed, the smile creeping up on him like a reflex.

They stood in silence for a beat too long, a moment stretched tight, both heavy and light at once. There was too much to say, and none of it would ever fit in a single reunion exchange.

Sunghoon’s face just grew a small smile at the tips of his lips, like if he allowed himself to smile any more the moment would fade. Sunoo knew what to look for though, from the meer watcher they would’ve assumed it was the older boy’s cold expression, but old habits die hard; and Sunoo was never going to forget how to read him like a book. Like he couldn’t paint him from a single memory.

They left just as quickly, as the music around them increased in intensity and tempo. The lights dimmed to dark, and suddenly the boys were gone—like it was simply an hallucination that Sunoo had as he was daydreaming. And Sunoo stood there for several seconds afterward, clutching the paper, trying not to cry.

Not here. Not now.

He used to dream of this reunion.

But none of the versions in his head had prepared him for the actual moment.

Because it wasn’t just joy or relief.

It was devastation.

It was love.

It was five years of missing them packed into a glance.

It was wondering if they’d ever looked for him the way he’d searched for traces of them in every new place, in every quiet song, in every smile that reminded him of home.

Back at the apartment, Jungwon was analyzing every performance from the night, but Sunoo could barely hear him. Niki was supposed to be coming over later for a sleepover after the crew went out for drinks.

The folded paper sat in his lap like a heartbeat. His hands were still cold from the moment it was given to him.

“They looked happy to see you,” Jungwon said gently, snapping him out of it. “Even Sunghoon. Like he’d just remembered what sunlight felt like.”

“You can’t just say something like that.” Sunoo spoke in a whisper.

Jungwon looked at him with a knowing smile, “Why? Did he capture your heart again like back then?” His cousin scooted closer to him on the couch, muting the TV. Jungwon was too good at this, too good at reading and manipulating conversations to lead him to the information he wanted to hear. Or maybe it was just a special bond he had with Sunoo, was able to cast a special spell to render Sunoo bewitched with vulnerability. Jungwon always did this. Disarmed him. Peeled him apart like an orange, patiently, without force, bit by bit, until everything inside spilled out sticky and raw. Then again, if Sunoo didn’t have his parents to find solace in, his cousin was his lifeline. And lifelines didn’t let you drown in silence.

Sunoo sat in silent reflection for a moment. Truly tracing his brain down to his spine, ending in his heart if he truly felt the same love of Sunghoon he used to when he was a puppy to the feeling. Sunghoon was who he needed to start his journey to himself, his friend through everything, his friend that was his trademarked “gay awakening”. Was it really rational to harbor those feelings for someone you barely know now?

“I don’t know,” Sunoo murmured after a pause. “It’s not like before.” He chewed the inside of his cheek, looking down at his hands, clasped tightly in his lap. “Back then, he was… he was everything to me. My best friend. My first real anchor. And then…yeah, maybe I had a crush. A big one. It destroyed my life, my view on the plan set for me. But it made me feel alive.”

He paused again, more pensive this time, like he was testing the weight of his own truth. Like a typewriter, all his thoughts authentically clacking out of him for the first time, with no way of going back to delete.

“But what I felt for him—it was more about me. About learning what it meant to want something that I couldn’t even name at the time. Sunghoon just happened to be the person standing closest when I figured it out. He was kind, and protective, and beautiful in that unreachable way. Of course I loved him. Of course I thought I did.”

Jungwon didn’t interrupt. He just listened, head tilted like he was holding every syllable with care. His careful arms enclasping Sunoo’s waist. It was an awkward and uncomfortable position to be hugging in, both of them slouched on the couch, Jungwon half laying down.

Sunoo exhaled. “But we’re not fifteen anymore. And I don’t know him now. He doesn’t know what Manila did to me, and I don’t know what time did to him. I’m not that boy anymore either. I’m—” He gestured vaguely to his makeup, his clothes, himself. “I’m this. And for the first time in my life, I’m okay being this.”

Jungwon reached out and covered Sunoo’s hands with his own, warm and grounding. “So what is it you want then?”

Sunoo’s eyes welled, but not from pain. Just a deep, aching clarity. “I want my friends back,” he said. “That’s all I want. I don’t want to replay some fantasy I wrote when I was still trying to figure out who I was. I just want them.”

He looked up at his cousin with glassy eyes. “I miss them so much it makes my chest hurt. And maybe… maybe I had to love Sunghoon back then so I could learn how to love myself now. But I’m done trying to relive the past. I just want them in my future.”

Jungwon squeezed his hands. “Then text them back,” he said softly. “Start there.”

Chapter Text

Sunoo did text the boys that evening, with Jungwon’s help he was able to make coherent sentences that still felt like really awkward every time he reread them. The trio was able to find a date planned out to catch up. Like catching up on 5 missed years was an easy task that could happen over a few shots of soju and snacks.

Sunoo spent the whole week planning his outfit. He debated with himself on what he wanted to wear. Did he want to present himself as the Sunoo they knew, or the Sunoo he always was? Or did they know who he was this whole time?

He decided on something simple. A pair of black ripped skinny jeans and a brighter shirt to match. He put in some gold studded earrings that sparkled and matched the lipgloss he dotted his plump lips with. He didn’t go crazy on the makeup, but he definitely wasn’t wearing a bare face. He loved it, he felt good with it. In the back of his mind he replayed how the duo reacted when they first saw him with it, and he felt at ease hoping they would have the same reactions.

As the time ticked down, he realized he could no longer handle the anxious knot that continued to coil within his stomach. He stood up from the couch that he was mindlessly scrolling on with his phone as he kept looking up to the corner to see the minutes go up one by one. It hit an even number and that was Sunoo’s sign to get up and go. Jungwon shouted a quick “good luck!” to him as he was rushing his legs out the door.

Now that the moment was here, he could only feel excitement. He couldn’t wait to tell them all the things he did in Manila, how he felt so cool like they were to him in their youth. How he accomplished so many breakthroughs with his music, even when he didn’t feel the pull to the strings that his heart would normally strum to, he still knew how accomplished he was.

Sunoo stood in front of the restaurant, palms sweaty despite the cool night air. The sign above flickered a little, casting a soft buzz into the quiet street. It was a hole-in-the-wall spot Jay picked—a cozy place with too many handwritten signs on the wall, a menu taped together with mismatched fonts, and the promise of good soju and spicy tteokbokki. He spotted them through the window before they saw him. Jay was already there, naturally, sitting with his legs spread wide like he owned the booth, tapping something into his phone and occasionally glancing toward the door. Sunghoon was beside him, looking down at the menu, brows furrowed like it held the secrets of the universe. His fingers tapped gently against the wood of the table, something Sunoo remembered from when they were kids. He always did that when he was trying to hide he was nervous.

And suddenly, Sunoo felt like a nervous kid again.

He opened the door and stepped in, and they both looked up.

Jay beamed immediately and stood up to greet him, pulling Sunoo into a tight hug. “You look hot, dude,” he said with a laugh. “The gloss? The earrings? Manila changed you.”

Sunghoon didn’t say anything at first. Just stared a beat too long. Long enough for Sunoo to start panicking again, before finally offering a soft smile. “You look good, Sunoo,” he said. His voice was sincere, careful. The kind of gentle that said I see you.

The beginning was… stiff. They talked about nothing that mattered at first, the weather, traffic, what classes they’re in. It was to no one’s surprise that Sunghoon was a pre-vet major, and Jay’s ever-so-grandson gene landed him in business. The duo was equally not surprised that Sunoo was majoring in Performance Arts.

Maybe it was the comfort of the boy’s that seeped into this skin, maybe it was the soju that seeped into his tongue, maybe it was the yearn of his soul to tell the boys everything.

“I don’t really feel a connection to it anymore.” He spoke out words only Jungwon had heard before.

The older boys looked at him as their eyes softened like the chewy rice cakes, Sunoo began to panic at the sudden shift in tone.

“It’s not like a bad thing, I just go through spells sometimes where I don’t feel as passionate as I used to. This one has just lasted the longest.”

“How long?” Sunghoon spoke up, like he was trying to diagnosis him like a weakened puppy.

5 years. Sunoo wanted to say. ”I don’t even know, it’s just been a gradual sense of doom.” Sunoo gulped another shot of soju that soured his tongue and simmered his anxiety.

Sunghoon leaned forward a little, elbows resting on the edge of the table, his brows drawn together in quiet concern. Jay didn’t say anything either, just reached across and refilled Sunoo’s glass with an unspoken kind of support that made Sunoo’s throat tighten.

“I used to feel it all the time,” Sunoo said, voice low. “Like… music lived in me. I didn’t have to think about it. It just poured out of me. But lately, it feels like I’m forcing it. Like I’m pretending to be the Sunoo everyone thinks I am.”

He laughed, short and dry. “Maybe I left the real me in that old apartment complex.”

Jay finally spoke. “Or maybe the real you just needed a break.” His voice was calm but sure. “Even the sun sets. Doesn’t mean it’s gone.”

Sunghoon nodded slowly. “We all changed, Sunoo. It’s okay if you’re not the same. You’re not supposed to be.”

Sunoo felt like crying again. It wasn’t even the soju this time — it was that warm sting behind the eyes that came with feeling seen. Not for what he gave the world. But for what he carried. What he lost. What he feared.

“And what if I don’t find it again?” Sunoo whispered.

“You will,” Sunghoon said, without hesitation. “But even if you don’t… you’re still you. That’s the part we care about.”

Jay grinned. “Exactly. You could drop out of school and start a frog sanctuary, and I’d still be in your corner.”

That made Sunoo laugh through the tear that finally rolled down his cheek. “You guys are so annoying.”

That was the turning point.

The stories spilled after that. Manila, basketball, roommates, stress dreams about vet school from Sunghoon, days where Jay’s grandma scolded him. They told dumb jokes and teased each other, and each memory was like throwing a rope across a chasm, pulling each other back. Connecting each other like a spiderwebs, like they were spun of the same material.

At one point, Jay nudged Sunoo with his foot under the table. “So,” he said casually, “you seeing anyone?”

The question lodged itself in Sunoo’s chest.

He stared down at his drink, watching a droplet slide down the side of the glass. The ice had started to melt. His throat felt like it was full of cotton. His mind ran through every possible reaction—rejection, confusion, discomfort. What if they looked at him differently? What if they regretted seeing him at all? What if he lost them again?

He took a shaky breath.

“I… I was seeing a few guys,” he said, voice trembling slightly. “But none of them really stuck.”

There was silence.

His stomach twisted and coiled in knots that soured in the alcohol.

Every second dragged like a razor across his chest. He was frozen, every muscle in his body coiled tight, like if they looked at him the wrong way— if they laughed or flinched or even breathed differently, he’d shatter.

Then Jay blinked. “Damn. Good for you.”

Sunghoon let out a low, thoughtful hum. “None of them good enough, huh?”

Sunoo’s lips parted. The tears came before he could even stop them. He reached up to wipe at his face, but they were already falling faster than he could catch. It wasn’t just relief. It was five years of silence. Five years of shame, of watching his father flinch at any softness in his voice. Five years of listening to relatives throw slurs like daggers at people who looked too much like him. Five years of hiding, of burying every piece of himself that didn’t fit the mold he was forced into.

It was grief.

It was freedom.

It was everything at once.

“I’m sorry,” he said between quiet sobs. “I just… I didn’t know if you’d still want me around. Like this.”

Jay and Sunghoon looked towards each other with their eyes wide with confusion crashing in the waves of their pupils. Jay’s lips fell in an attempt to say something, yet he felt hurt. How could Sunoo think something like this of them? That they would hate him for loving someone?

But then it clicked in the older boy’s mind, he remembers how Sunoo was raised. What Sunoo faced as a young child before he moved to the apartments. What Sunoo faced every day of his life with his father. He remembered how Sunoo never spoke about his dad. How he always went home with tension in his shoulders, how his voice got quieter around certain topics, how he avoided holding eye contact when someone asked if he’d ever had a crush. In his mind he just viewed Sunoo as their Sunoo, but he forgot about the whole past that built up the boy’s spine as he grew taller in age. Jay had just accepted him as he was, but he hadn’t realized how hard Sunoo had fought to become that version, how many versions he had to bury just to survive.

Sunoo had been carrying this fear for years.

Jay swallowed hard and leaned forward.

“Sunoo.” His voice cracked. “I don’t know how others have reacted to you. I don’t know what you’ve been through. But Sunghoon and I.. we… would never, ever judge you for something as simple as loving who you love. For being who you are.”

He reached across the table and grabbed Sunoo’s wrist gently, grounding him. His thumb brushed lightly over Sunoo’s skin as he offered a shaky chuckle, trying to steady both of them. “You’re still smaller than us,” he teased, voice soft. “Still delicate, still dramatic, still ours. I don’t give a damn who you fall for, as long as they treat you right. And if they don’t, we’ll take care of it.”

Sunghoon came to, deep in thought throughout Jay’s soliloquy.

“Sunoo, I don’t care who anyone else is. I care about you, all of you.” His eyes softened as they met the youngers, speaking without thinking, without knowing that if Sunoo heard these words in years past, he would take it the wrong way.

“Sunoo.” He spoke again, like the younger boy wasn’t already giving him his whole attention, “Thank you, for being brave enough to share the whole you with us. We’d love to learn more about who our little Sunoo has grown into. Because honestly? He turned out pretty damn extraordinary.”

That smile.

That damn smile that rose on his face.

Sunoo had painted that smile in his mind just as beautifully as he could’ve captured it with the paints they had gifted him when they were younger. With that smile, he knew for once in his life, he was safe around the people he loved.

SH.

Sunghoon watched the tears slide down Sunoo’s cheeks, silent and shimmering in the low restaurant light. There was something guttural about seeing someone cry like that—not from pain exactly, but from release. From shedding five years of silence and fear and hope.

He could still feel the weight of Sunoo’s words in his chest. I didn’t know if you’d still want me around. Like this.

And God, it hurt. Not because of what Sunoo said, but because of what had made him believe it.

Sunghoon’s stomach turned as he replayed the past in his mind. The missed signs. The way Sunoo would shrink into himself when conversations drifted toward dating. The way he’d smile just enough to convince you he was fine, when really, he was bracing for impact. Sunghoon had always thought of himself as observant— protective, even —but now, looking at the boy who had practically grown up at his side, he realized just how much he’d let slip through the cracks.

He should’ve known. He should’ve been there.

And so, when Jay offered his cheeky threat to “handle” anyone who broke Sunoo’s heart, Sunghoon didn’t laugh. He just nodded. Eyes still locked on their friend like he was trying to make up for every second he hadn’t truly seen him. In that moment, Sunghoon didn’t feel like a vet student, or a man trying to navigate his future. He felt like he was sixteen again, and Sunoo was the little brother who used to fall asleep on the couch next to him, curled up after watching movies he pretended not to like.

From there, things began to stitch themselves back into something lighter. The night carried on with more soju, louder laughter, and stories they never thought they’d share again. By the time the server gently announced closing time, their plates were empty and their hearts, somehow, a little fuller.

Outside, the night air had grown colder, sobering them just slightly as they stepped into the quiet street.

“Jay, you’re walking sideways,” Sunghoon said, slinging an arm over his friend’s shoulder to steady him.

“I’m just…vibing in multiple dimensions,” Jay slurred, grinning.

“Convenience store?” Sunghoon suggested. “Get this lightweight some milk or bread or something.”

They made the short walk to a tiny corner store that looked like it hadn’t updated its decor since 2005. Inside, Sunghoon grabbed a bottle of banana milk and shoved it at Jay, who accepted it with dramatic gratitude.

By the time they stepped outside into the cool air, he was already leaning against the wall with his eyes half-shut, mumbling something about being king of the world. Sunghoon sighed, steadying him before helping him sit down on the curb just outside the restaurant. “Give him ten minutes,” he said, plopping down beside him with a tired groan. “He’ll resurrect like nothing happened.” The three of them sat there in a row— shoulders brushing, knees bent, under flickering fluorescent light.

Sunoo laughed and hesitated before settling down next to them, close enough that his shoulder brushed Sunghoon’s when he sat back. The streets had gone quiet. A few scooters whizzed by, someone in the distance yelled for a cab, but it felt like their own little bubble on the side of the road.

“Thanks for tonight,” Sunoo said, after a long stretch of silence.

Sunghoon turned to him, gaze soft. “Of course.”

“I was…” Sunoo paused, the words catching in his throat. His fingers played with the hem of his shirt as he stared down at the pavement. “I was the most scared about seeing you.”

Sunghoon blinked. “Me?”

“You always meant so much to me,” Sunoo said quietly. “And I know it’s been five years and we’ve all grown, but I think deep down was terrified you’d look at me and think I’d turned into someone you wouldn’t recognize. That I’d disappointed you. That you wouldn’t be able to accept me the way I am now.”

Sunghoon sat with that for a second, his brows drawn, not in confusion, but in quiet hurt at the thought that Sunoo ever had to carry that fear.

Then he exhaled slowly and spoke with deliberate calm.

“Sunoo,” he said, “there’s nothing, nothing, you could be that would make me angry, or disappointed, or even confused. I… I hate that you thought you had to hide who you are from me.”

Sunoo looked at him, lip trembling, eyes glassy again. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” Sunghoon said. “You’ve always been brave. You’ve always been brighter than the rest of the kids, than me especially. And maybe I didn’t understand everything when we were kids, but I do now. And all I care about is that you’re okay. That you’re here. That you’re you.”

The silence that followed was heavy in the best way, thick with emotion and all the things that had gone unsaid for too long. Jay snored softly beside them, completely knocked out.

Sunoo wiped at his cheek again and let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh.

“You really haven’t changed,” he said, voice small but full of something warm and bright. “Still annoying and weirdly poetic when you’re tired.”

Sunghoon chuckled. “You’re one to talk. You cried twice tonight.”

“Shut up.”

But they both smiled, and didn’t move away when their shoulders touched again, even when the night air grew colder.

They sat there a little longer in the stillness, watching lights flicker in distant windows, as if the world had gone quiet just to make space for them again. The same boys who used to fall asleep in the stairwell of their old apartment complex, whispering dreams into the dark, now just older versions—with heavier stories, but lighter hearts.

Sunghoon continued. “You always mean something. And now that you’re here again being honest, being yourself. I’m just glad I get to know this version of you, too.”

Sunoo covered his face with both hands, overwhelmed, but a laugh escaped him through the tears. “God, I hate you guys.”

“No, you don’t,” Jay said with his eyes still shut, squeezing his shoulder. “You love us. You missed us.”

“I did,” Sunoo said, lowering his hands. “So much.”

The night seeped into later and later hours, yet the boys talked and sobered like there was no such thing as time. Until Sunoo started to yawn, and realized he will regret staying up this late in the morning. Sunghoon saw the younger rub his arms for warmth, the bumps rising on his fair skin. Sunghoon’s face slanted as he wished he brought a jacket to give to him.

Sunghoon had brought up maybe ending the night, and that they have much more time together now. Sunoo had a small giggle in response, and the older boy took that melody as a sealed promise. As they walked toward’s Sunoo’s dorm apartments, Sunghoon realized he still had things unsaid. This feeling of guilt that he knew he had to get rid of before starting over with the boy of his youth.

Sunghoon exhaled. “Hey… Sunoo.”

The younger boy looked up, a piece of bread halfway to his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Sunghoon said, voice lower now. “For not saying goodbye.”

Sunoo blinked, chewing slowly. He didn’t speak right away.

Then: “I was really angry at you.”

“I know.”

Sunoo let the words hang for a beat, then sighed. “I used to think you left because you outgrew me. Like, I was just this clingy little kid you used to hang out with for pity. And when you didn’t need that anymore, you were gone.”

“Sunoo—”

“But that was selfish,” he cut in, shaking his head. “I made your silence about me, when really... you probably had your own stuff to figure out. I just didn’t want to think about that. It was easier to be hurt than it was to think I didn’t know you anymore. I don’t know, I just… started telling myself all these stories to justify why you were gone. Why I felt so left behind. And the truth is, I just missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he said. “We thought about you more than you probably know.”

Another pause. The city buzzed faintly around them, a lullaby of passing cars and faraway music.

“God, you’re both so dramatic,” Jay murmured through half-sleep. “I’m the main character and I still got the least lines.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “You’re the comic relief.”

Jay lifted a middle finger in reply.

And just like that, it felt like it used to. Maybe not exactly the same, but close enough.

Sunghoon woke up with the distinct sensation of having been hit by a bus made of memories. It wasn’t a headache, exactly. Not in the physical sense, but something deeper, like his soul had been wrung out and left to dry on the windowsill. The light filtering through the blinds was soft and golden, too gentle to be real. His body was heavy with sleep and unspoken thoughts, his chest full in a way that wasn’t unpleasant, just full. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, the images of last night flickering like old film reels.

Not five seconds later, there was a knock at his door. Then Jake’s voice, overly bright for a Saturday morning.

“Breakfast’s ready! Well, Lunch! And Jay’s alive, barely!”

Sunghoon chuckled, dragging himself out of bed.

When he stepped into the shared kitchen, the scene looked like a sitcom: Jake at the stove with an apron on (seriously?), Jay slumped at the table, cradling a neon green smoothie like it held the meaning of life. The smell of eggs, roasted veggies, and something vaguely herbal drifted through the air.

“I made ginger tofu scramble,” Jake said proudly, sliding a plate toward him. “Anti-inflammatory. Good for... whatever emotional hell you clearly went through.”

Jay raised his smoothie with a groan. “To gay revelations and ginger tofu. May we all survive our emotional hangovers.”

“I don’t even know if I want to know what that means.” Jake spoke as he sat on the stool, before his head shot up, “WAIT. Did you two kiss?”

Sunghoon choked on his spit, “Hell no.”

Jay looked up at him offended, a hand pressed dramatically to his chest like he’d just been personally insulted. “Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?” he gasped, then turned to Jake. “Did you hear that? ‘Hell no,’ like kissing me would be some irreversible trauma.”

Jake looked at him in a deadpan stare, with full authentic angelic honest he spoke, “I mean, it would be.”

Jay narrowed his eyes. “I’m a damn good kisser, you guys are just jealous.”

Sunghoon poked his tofu around with his chopsticks, his mind not only scrambled from last night events, but also from the discombobulation of waking up at such a late hour in the day. Sunoo was back in his life for less than 24 hours, and his routine was already messed up… again.

That thought put a chuckle on his lips, as he brought the chopsticks to them and chewed.

“You remember how I told you about our childhood best friend?”

Jake raised an eyebrow as he stirred his tea. “The one who moved away when you were sixteen? The one you said you said was a musical prodigy?”

Jay barked out a laugh. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

“We saw him last night,” Sunghoon said, finally meeting Jake’s eyes. “Sunoo.”

Jake blinked. “Wow. Full circle.”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon murmured, his expression softening, “except he’s not the same kid. He’s grown. He’s different. But also… somehow exactly the same.”

“Isn’t that how everyone is? That’s just the art of growing up.” Jake looked at them with sincerity, “I mean when I was fifteen I certainly wasn’t who I am now.”

Jay scoffed, swirling what remained of his smoothie like it was whiskey. “You were still probably wearing pink hoodies and making weird friendship bracelets.”

Jake grinned. “And now I wear aprons and make weird friendship meals. Growth.”

Sunghoon hummed softly, poking at the scramble again. “He changed, yeah. But not in a bad way. Just… like life weathered him a little. You could still see it, though. The same spark in his eyes when he talked about music. The way he flinched when you complimented him, like he wasn’t used to hearing it.”

Jay nodded solemnly. “He cried, Jake. Full-on tears. Said he thought we wouldn’t want him around anymore.”

Jake’s brow furrowed. “That’s heartbreaking.”

“It was,” Sunghoon replied. “But also kind of… healing. For all of us, I think.”

The room went quiet for a second, save for the soft clink of chopsticks and the occasional pathetic slurp from Jay’s smoothie. Then Jake’s eyes narrowed just a little, watching Sunghoon with that annoying, hyper-observant intuition he seemed to always carry in his back pocket.

“But you,” Jake started slowly, “you’re not just relieved. You’re…” He paused. “Something else.”

Sunghoon froze mid-bite. “What do you mean?”

Jake shrugged with faux innocence. “I don’t know. You’ve got this look—like you just read the last chapter of a book you weren’t ready to end. Like your heart’s still on the page.”

Jay snorted, not even looking up. “Wow, Jake. That was actually poetic. You okay?”

Jake waved him off with a half-laugh, but there was a flicker in his eyes that didn’t quite match the usual brightness. He grabbed his mug, took a sip of tea, and leaned his hip against the counter, letting the weight of whatever he wasn’t saying settle for a beat.

“I mean,” he said, still staring into his mug, “I wasn’t gonna bring it up, but last night kinda sucked for me. But I don’t really want to ruin the vibes of your happy reunion”

Jay raised a brow, now interested. “What happened? You were going out with Heeseung, right?”

Jake scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah. We were supposed to hang out. Just the two of us for once. I thought it might be... I don’t know. Nice. Chill.”

Sunghoon glanced up, catching the strange note in Jake’s voice.

Jay squinted at him, suspicious. “And?”

Jake gave a humorless laugh and set his mug down with a little more force than necessary. “He ditched me. Said he forgot he had something early in the morning. Some lab meeting or whatever. He only stayed for, like, twenty minutes and barely looked me in the eye.”

Sunghoon winced. “That’s rough.”

“Tell me about it.” Jake crossed his arms and tried to sound casual, but his voice betrayed a tinge of something raw underneath. “I just stood there for the next hour like an idiot, sipping soda and pretending I wasn’t looking at the door every time it opened.”

Jay frowned, uncharacteristically quiet for once. “Heeseung’s a dick.”

Jake shook his head immediately. “He’s not. He’s just... complicated.”

Sunghoon gave him a long look. “Jake. You’re allowed to be hurt, you know.”

Jake offered a half-hearted smile. “Yeah, well. It’s not like we’re together or anything. We’ve just… been hanging out. And sometimes he’s really present and funny and warm. And other times, it’s like I never existed.”

Jay made a strangled noise. “God, that sounds awful. You deserve someone who doesn’t flake the second things get real.”

Jake bit the inside of his cheek, then gave a tiny nod. “Thanks.”

Jay finally sat up, rubbing his face. “Listen, if it makes you feel better, I’ll kiss you. Purely as a morale booster. Maybe in a rainstorm. With music swelling behind us.”

Jake snorted. “No offense, Jay, but if I ever kiss you, it’ll be because I was possessed by the ghost of one of your fangirls, and I would probably rip my lips off after I came to.”

Sunghoon smiled softly as their banter settled into familiar rhythms. The heaviness in the room slowly lifted, and though Jake’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, it was still a smile. That counted for something.

The season of the semester washed and weaned like waves on a shore, bringing the trio together in moments of hectic basketball games, and relaxed peace as the duo attended Sunoo’s performances. The trees outside their apartment turned gold and rust-red, shedding leaves like confessions. Midterms came and went, some aced, others survived, but what endured more than anything was the rhythm that began to form again.

As Sunghoon looked upon the boy on the stage, just like they used to when he was an upcoming star, he was left more flabbergasted than he believes he’s ever been. Sunoo has always been talented, but it was apparent that the training in Manila honed his skills in technical ways that Sunghoon couldn’t even begin to imagine understanding. Whenever Sunoo told them about his musical world, he would always try to figure out what the foreign words meant, but he just would base his opinions on the emotions that Sunoo had.

Sunoo had told them he’d been in a creative rut for almost a year. That music hadn’t come easy anymore. That some days, he looked at his violin and felt nothing. But there he was, playing anyway. Showing up. Letting people hear the version of him that didn’t have it all together.

Sunghoon blinked hard.

Because maybe that was the point.

He couldn’t explain the bone-deep exhaustion he felt after every anatomy lab. Couldn’t name the hollowness that crept in when he stood outside the animal clinic labs, unable to see himself inside it. His hands were steady, his notes were neat, but his heart wasn’t in it. Not really. He didn’t talk about it much. Not even to Jay. But he felt it every time he opened his laptop and stared at the blank Word document for his bioethics paper. He felt it when he looked at his test grades, average. Always just average. His father had graduated at the top of his class. Built his own clinic before he was thirty. Supported his mother, him, and his business like it was as simple as breathing. People brought him sick animals from cities away. “You’ll take over one day,” he used to say, like it was already written in stone.

Like he was meant from the very beginning to fill in those shoes in the way that his father so easily slipped them on.

Sunghoon loomed in his mind with the metronome ticking around him. After the concert, he walked home by himself as he wasn’t up to going to lunch with Jay, Sunoo, and Jungwon. He yearned to hear his dad’s voice, it’s been a couple days since he last talked to him, and that pained him in a different place of his heart. His father picked up on the second ring.

“Sunghoon-ah! There you are, I was starting to think you’d forgotten about your old man.” His voice was warm, eager like a fire that cinched with pride that Sunghoon didn’t know what to do with.

“Yeah sorry. Classes have been… a lot lately, and basketball practices have picked up because the season starts in a couple weeks.”

“Well that’s expected. What are you working on now?” His father asked, growing the fire with enthusiasm, “Have you gotten to pathology yet? Immunology? That’s when it really starts to feel real.”

Sunghoon felt like a fraud, and his chest burnt with a fire of a different flame than his fathers.

“Yeah, we’re going over zoonotics right now. Rabies, leptospirosis… Stuff like that.”

“Oh perfect! I remember my own lectures on that, Dr. Han used to always say that rabies was the most poetic virus, the way it conquers the nervous system. Did I ever tell you about that one rabbit that the Jung’s found—”

His father’s voice went on like a symphony of music notes that he just heard Sunoo playing, beautiful in tone, but confusing in theory. Sunghoon held a tight smile on his face, like his father would be able to see him falter. As he made his way into his apartment and slammed his body down on the bed, his fingers twisted at the hem of his hoodie.

Every “That’s my boy!” to the simplest of sentences that Sunghoon murmured hit like a brick, because deep down, he wasn’t sure he was. Not in the way that his father saw him, he felt like a facade.

“Thanks Dad, I’ll study hard.” Those words spoken with more depth than they seem.

“Of course, I know you will.”

Basketball practice that evening was worse than usual. His limbs didn’t move right, his head wasn’t clear. Passes were slipped through his fingers, and his legs grounded in stone. His free throws bounced off the rim with a hollow clang. His coaches barked something at him, and Jay was shooting him looks from across the court, but it all blurred together in a thick fog of his own failure.

His coaches told him to take a break, embarrassing himself more.

Inside the bathroom, the echo of the gym faded behind the walls, and the fluorescent lights flickered overhead like they mocked him. He grasped the edge of the sink, breathing harder than he should for not working himself the way he normally does, he hated it.

The walls felt too close, the mirror was too honest.

He stared at his reflection, and didn’t recognize who was supposed to be starring back. Sweat clung to his temples, his cheeks were flushed.

It hit him all at once. The weight of it.

The grades.

The expectations.

The quiet ache of not knowing what the hell he was doing anymore.

The thought of his dad’s voice, so proud, so certain—and how he was nowhere near who that man thought he was.

His vision blurred. His breath hitched.

He sank down onto the cold floor, knees pulled in, hoodie tight around his body like a shield. And the thoughts came, rapid and unrelenting.

What if I fail? What if I’m not enough? What if this isn’t me, and it never was?

The pressure clamped down on his chest like a vice. He hated this. The feeling of not being able to breathe. Like he was drowning in a sea of expectations with no shore in sight.

Tears welled, hot and silent.

He tried to ground himself. In the cold tile. In the sound of water dripping from a faucet. In the faint, distant rhythm of the basketballs still bouncing in the gym.

He thought of Sunoo, on that stage. Of how his hands had shaken. Of how he played anyway.

Sunghoon let out a shaky breath.

He wasn’t ready. He didn’t have the answers. But maybe… maybe that was okay. Maybe being lost was part of it. Maybe Sunoo had the answers.

Just breathe, he told himself, forehead against his knees.

SN.

It was the kind of relief that settled into your bones.

His performance was done. He’d played. He hadn’t thrown up. He’d even remembered to bow at the end and not scurry off the stage like a startled cat. On stage, with the lights soft and golden above him, he hadn’t been thinking about perfection or technique or even his grade. For once, it wasn’t about impressing anyone in power. It was about expression. It was about the quiet joy of letting the music tell the truth he never had the words for. He was able to find Jay and Sunghoon the same way he always did, they stood out like golden peaches in a basket of apples. It felt like coming home, like he didn’t have to prove anything. And now he was sitting across from Jay and Jungwon in a sunlit corner of a noodle shop that smelled like sesame oil and safety.

Jay was picking the cilantro out of his soup with surgical precision. Jungwon, bless him, was already halfway through his second plate and talking about something to do with music theory and tempo shifts that Sunoo was absolutely not equipped to follow right now. He just smiled and nodded like he was awake.

He wasn’t. He was sleepwalking in a world where adrenaline had worn off and his joints were still buzzing.

The bell above the restaurant door jingled, and a tall figure ducked inside like he’d just strolled out of a magazine shoot and into reality.

“Niki!” Jungwon called, waving his chopsticks like a signal flare. “Over here!”

“Hey,” Niki greeted, slipping into the seat beside him. “Heard you played today.”

“Uh, yeah.” Sunoo laughed nervously. “It was nothing big.”

“That’s not what Jungwon said.” Niki turned slightly, eyes locked on his with casual intensity. “He said you nearly made people cry.”

“I—I wouldn’t say cry—” Sunoo fumbled, cheeks blooming with heat.

Jay let out a quiet huh, taking a long, deliberate sip of his drink. Sunoo could feel him watching. Probably already forming some smart remark.

“And you must be Jay,” Niki said suddenly, turning his attention like he’d just remembered something important. “Sunoo’s mentioned you.”

That wasn’t true.

Not in any direct way, at least.

Jay raised a brow, still chewing, and leaned back. “Have I now?”

“You play basketball, right?” Niki asked, sliding easily into charm mode. “My dormmate’s obsessed with you. She’s got your jersey on her wall.”

Sunoo blinked. “Wait, what?”

“Framed and everything,” Niki added, chuckling as he reached over to casually remove a napkin stuck to Sunoo’s sleeve, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “There you go. Can’t let our star violinist look like a mess.”

Niki laughed, resting his chin in one hand like he was perfectly comfortable soaking in all this chaotic energy. “Well, in that case, I feel honored to be meeting the legendary Jay.”

“Legendary,” Jay echoed, amused. “You laying it on thick so I’ll give you free tickets to a game?”

“Maybe,” Niki said with zero shame, then added, “Or maybe because your name comes up every time Sunoo gets that little nostalgic look on his face.”

Sunoo coughed into his spoon. Jungwon reached across and casually pushed a napkin into his hand like it was a rescue mission.

Niki had just finished complimenting the broth, something about how it had the right balance of spice and “healing energy,” whatever that meant. When Jay finally set his chopsticks down, eyes narrowed just slightly.

“So…” Jay leaned his elbows on the table, his voice casual but with that edge he always had when he was trying to sniff someone out. “You dance, huh?”

“Professionally,” Niki replied, brushing a piece of lint off his sleeve like the topic was as normal as breathing. “Well, professionally enough. Competition circuits, a few showcases, choreography commissions. You know.”

Jay blinked. “No, I don’t, actually.”

Jungwon snorted into his soda.

“I’m with the university’s main team this year,” Niki went on, completely unbothered. “Our manager is always running around trying to keep us on schedule. I think I stress him out more than the others.”

“That stressed out manager would be my roommate, and trust me he’s always like that. He never shuts up about some dancer who’s always pushing past curfew and doing flips off furniture.”

Jungwon’s head snapped toward Niki. “That’s you, isn’t it?”

Guilty smile. “Okay, but the furniture was stable. And the curfew is more of a... suggestion.”

Sunoo just stared. “You stressed out Jake and broke furniture?”

“I fixed it!” Niki protested. “And I apologized! He gave me gummy bears the next day so I think we’re cool.”

Jay chuckled, the sound low and rare, eyes crinkling in that way that meant he was genuinely amused.

“So then you must know Heeseung then?” Jay spoke up, with a more determined tone in his voice, like this question was important.

“Oh Heeseung! Of course, he’s my paired mentor. What? Do you guys know him?”

Jay let his chopsticks drop to the side of his bowl, leaned back with arms crossed, and gave a little humorless laugh. “You could say that.”

As the boys kept talking, laughter bouncing off the table like sunlight through water, Sunoo found his thoughts drifting. It was hard to keep his feet planted in the present when everything about this moment felt like it had been pulled from some distant dream. A surreal haze hung over the air, warm and sweet and just slightly too good to be true. It was just missing Sunghoon, and maybe these two other boys that Jay and Niki seem to know. It would be the perfect dream.

As Sunoo smiled onto the scene infront of him, his phone buzzed down like an alarm clock waking him up from the REM he was just floating in.

It was his father.

He was suddenly washed over with cold water, his skin buzzed and fizzed like the sodas they were drinking, and his tongue went dry. He excused himself from the table, looking Jungwon in the eyes and talking without speaking.

Sunoo stepped away, weaving through the noisy tables of the bustling café, the back of his neck prickling. He found a quiet corner near the restrooms, the sound of clinking glasses and laughter muffled behind him. He stared at the screen for a moment, then finally answered.

“Hello?”

“Sunoo.” His father’s voice was sharp, businesslike, void of affection. “I watched the performance.”

Sunoo’s stomach twisted. “Oh. Um… what did you think?”

Embracing impact.

“I think,” his father paused, dragging out the silence, “that you looked like you were putting on a circus act.”

Sunoo blinked, breath caught in his throat. “I… it was an interpretive piece, for our project. My professor gave me full marks. She said it was emotionally honest.”

“Emotion,” his father scoffed. “That’s what you’re proud of? Emotion doesn’t build empires, Sunoo. It doesn’t sign contracts or pay dividends. Do you think any of your classmates’ parents were proud of that… dramatic display?”

Silence again. Then his father sighed, the kind of long exhale that made Sunoo feel ten inches tall. “You’re wasting your potential. You were top of your class, you had every opportunity to pursue something real here. Instead, you’re, dancing around like it’s a talent show.”

Sunoo closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the cold wall behind him. “I saw Jay today,” he said suddenly, trying to steer the conversation somewhere, anywhere, less painful. “And Sunghoon. From the village. Remember them?”

A beat. Then his father gave a dismissive hum. “The boy that wore scraps and the one with the dead mother?”

Sunoo’s blood ran hot. “Jay helps run his grandmother’s store now. Sunghoon’s studying to be a vet.”

“You always had a soft spot for strays, Sunoo. But I told you before, surrounding yourself with mediocrity will only drag you down.”

“They’re not mediocre,” Sunoo snapped before he could stop himself. “They’re good people.”

“I didn’t send you there to rekindle playground friendships, Sunoo.”

Sunoo’s stomach dropped again, as if the floor had opened beneath him.

“I—” He swallowed. “I didn’t mean for that to be the point, Sir. I’m focused. I’m still keeping my grades up. Today’s performance was part of my coursework—”

“Don’t twist this,” his father snapped. “We had a clear agreement. You were going to finish this degree, graduate with honors, and come home. Back to Manila. That was the deal. Not parading around on a stage like some emotional liability. Not wasting time with... with boys from the past who have nothing to offer you.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Sunoo’s voice cracked, a mix of confusion and anger. “They’re not a distraction, they’re people. People who care about me. That matters, whether you think it does or not.”

His father was quiet for a moment, then said flatly, “Because caring doesn’t build futures, Sunoo. Plans do. Discipline. Sacrifice. You forget you’re there because of me. My name, my money, my contacts. Without those things, you wouldn’t even be at that university.”

Sunoo winces at that. It’s true.

He was only able to come back to Korea through intense months of begging and pathetic pleading, promising that getting an education from an international university was going to be better for him. He had escaped the man physically, but his presence haunted his every move.

“You’re my son, Sunoo,” his father spit. “And sons finish what they start. You don’t run off with old friends and nostalgia. You stay on track. You remember who you are.”

“I know, Sir. Thank you.”

The call ended with a cold click.

Sunoo stood frozen, the echo of the words still in his ear, vibrating with the weight of expectation. He could feel his chest constricting, not from fear, but from exhaustion. From carrying the burden of being someone else’s idea of who he should be.

He wanted to scream. To cry. To vanish.

Instead, he breathed. In. Out. Just like Jungwon taught him.

His fingers unclenched, and for the first time since he’d picked up the call, he let his shoulders drop. Not in defeat, but in release.

He looked back toward the table. Jay was laughing, leaning too far in. Niki was now balancing a fork on his nose. Jungwon was watching Sunoo, head tilted, concern etched across his brows.

Sunoo made his way back slowly. With purpose.

Maybe his father was right. Maybe this phase wouldn’t last forever.

But while it did, Sunoo was going to make sure it was his.

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